#she said “I can fix him” and she FAILED! over and over again! i desire her carnally

[agirlwithoutmagic]

sorry but I cannot help but love ouat belle so much. she’s a hero she’s a scholar she’s the key to ending the ogre wars she was locked in a psychiatric ward for 28 years and didn’t age a day she reads mandarin and elvish she’s inexplicably australian and most of all she fucked that old man.

#belle french #ouat #once upon a time #rumplestiltskin #ouat rumple #rumbelle #she said “I can fix him” and she FAILED! over and over again! i desire her carnally #edited because i remembered regina kept her in the DUNGEON(equivalent) for 28 YEARS!!!!!!!!!!!!! #chelsea.txt

[throneofsapphics]

someone who loves you wouldn’t do this

Feysand x f!Reader

Summary: Angst-tober Day 12, “You can run, we’ll find you every time.” with Feysand 

Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of kidnapping, murder, dark feysand, torture? sort of, dubcon, dark feysand, smut-ish, minors dni!

A/N: sooo I accidentally posted it this morning, but I've re-edited it now!

kink/angst-tober masterlist

“You can run, we’ll find you every time.” A shiver ran down your spine. Not necessarily the words themselves, but how he said it - as if it were something normal. His mild tone and the small quirk of lips told you he thought running away was just a hobby of yours, just a way to tease them. Like you didn’t crave your freedom with every inch of your being, like the siren call of the outside world wasn’t your entire focus, day in and out. 

There was nothing you could hide from him, any walls you built up were torn down without a second thought. You could only run because he let you. He desired the chase, the hunt, and eventually the capture. Once, you made it beyond the borders of Prythian, fleeing for the continent. When he discovered the village hiding you, he made you watch as they slaughtered every last adult who helped. From the sweet older female who gave you a job, to your landlord, and to the few friends you’d made over the months you settled there. 

The early fall winds whipped brutally against your cheeks as you sprinted, pushing your Fae body to the absolute limits. A small pack tugged at your shoulders uncomfortably, but there wasn’t time to fix that, not now. You finally broke the city wards with relief flushing your entire being. Made it. You were free, free from Velaris. But, you knew you weren’t out of danger yet. As long as you stayed in the Night Court it would be much easier for them to find you. So, you found yourself on the continent. 

The freedom lasted six months before she came. 

“Rhys fetched you last time, it was my turn.” She said, leaning against your doorway. You wished you could winnow, you could do something to escape, but Cauldron boil you, you were trapped. The only way out would be to overpower her and there’s no chance you could do that. “But - he insisted on coming this time. “He’s making an example of your friends,” she said with a bitter tone.

“Please,” your voice was hoarse, “please don’t.” and you fell to your knees, prepared to beg for their lives. 

“None of that,” she tutted. “It will only make it worse for them.” 

A broken cry left your lips as she curled her fingers in. 

Helpless against them and subject to their whims and moods. Maybe … maybe if you didn’t give them what they wanted, and stayed perfectly in place, they would tire of you and throw you out eventually. 

“Not happening,” that voice, as cold and cool as night, swept its way into your mind. “I promised you eternity and you already know I keep my promises.” His presence left as soon as it came, a claw stroking down the inside of your mind. 

At least you weren’t foolish enough to bargain away your life to them. Those first few years, filled with a haze of love and lust, of gratitude from the difficult life they tugged you out of, those were the best years of your life. Joy and hope for the future you began to build with them, before they slowly dismantled it. Brick by brick, they tore you back down to rubble and tried to build you up again in their image. 

You could only take satisfaction in how they were failing miserably at that. They had underestimated your stubbornness and your desire for independence. How could someone go from love to loathing in such a short period of time? You knew one truth, someone who loves you wouldn’t do this. It's an obsession, a facsimile of love, no matter what they told you or how much they professed. Even if you did love them back, in some sick and twisted way, it was inconsequential. 

When you got the chance to leave, it wouldn't be a planned or thought out occasion, you would have to act impulsively and take a chance if it ever came up. 

Feyre swept into the room, her dress fluttering behind her. She was beautiful, in every sense of the word, and you tore your eyes away from her as she approached you. She tilted your chin up and pressed a kiss to your forehead with a soft smile on her face. 

“How’s my favorite person?” She asked, sitting next to you and tugging you into her side. You urged your body to stay stiff, but inevitably you melted into her. 

“I’m hurt,” Rhys gasped, pressing a hand against his chest. They were in a small argument right now, and whenever that happened you tended to get tugged into the middle as a buffer. You hated it. 

“I didn’t ask you.” She snipped, and turned to you again. “How are you, love?” 

You despised how your pulse fluttered when she called you that. 

“Y/n’s having traitorous thoughts,” Rhys said with a cruel smirk. A half-hearted snarl left your lips, your eyes narrowed at the High Lord. 

“Really?” Feyre ran one hand down your arm, before settling on your hip and giving a bruising squeeze, her nails digging in the soft skin. “You know leaving again would be a stupid decision.” 

You didn’t reply. You’d made many ‘stupid’ decisions over the years, there’s no need to change now. 

“You’re smarter than that.” She said when you didn’t answer her. You yelped as she pinched your hip. “Aren’t you?” 

“No.” 

“At least you’re honest,” she sighed and you felt her magic reaching out, pushing and testing all of the new wards surrounding the house. 

“Not that I could get away with lying,” your fists clenched, tugging the fabric on your pants to keep yourself calm. 

“I suppose you couldn’t, not anymore.” 

Not anymore. Not since they dragged you back here. 

Rhys tossed you in a chair, and threads of his magic wrapped around your arms - binding your entire body to the chair and rendering you immobile. At his mercy. You knew what was coming next, and tried to wiggle out of them anyways. “This is going to hurt, darling.” 

“I thought you could make it painless,” you panted, your chest heaving, sobs lingering under your skin. 

“Oh I could,” he traced your cheekbone, one hand holding your jaw when you turned your head away from him. He crouched so he was at eye-level with you. His eyes were black as the night sky - no hint of violet or playfulness in them. Cold. “But I want you to remember this, Darling. Consider it a lesson.” 

“I - I will, I promise. Please.” You hated that you were reduced to begging already, but … this was a kind of pain beyond measure for you and knowing Rhys could choose exactly how much pain to inflict. It kicked in your sense of self preservation. 

He hummed, rubbing his hand over his jaw as if he was contemplating it. “No. I quite like your screams.” 

Tears leaked from your eyes, streaming down your face. As he began, your screams filled the entire room. Layer by layer, your mind was torn apart - not even a shred of a wall or barrier left behind. He left memories of your old life behind, but you didn’t think he was doing it from the kindness of his heart. In a sick way, he wanted you to remember how bad it was.

A small tap on your cheek brought you back to the present. You blinked heavily, finding Feyre looking at you - head tilted, blue-gray eyes searing into you. Teeth tugged into your bottom lip, and her eyes tracked them, pupils blowing. Betraying you, your body reacted to her slightest movement, the caress of her hand on her neck. Feyre noticed it, with no small amount of satisfaction, and grasped your hips, tugging you so you straddled her lap. 

Soft. Her touches were so damned soft, running up and down your sides, thumbs ghosting over your breasts. 

“You don’t need to pretend,” she murmured.

“Pretend what?” you snapped, ignoring the sharp look she pinned you with. 

“That you don’t like this.” 

“I don’t.” You protested, trying to wiggle away. Feyre’s hands tightened on your hips and Rhys snorted behind you.

“Liar,” he purred, his voice echoing through your mind. 

Rhys sent an image; 

You were sprawled on your bed, Feyre’s head between your legs, Rhys propped behind you, his hand on your chin - directing your attention to the mirror across from the bed, “Watch Feyre make you come, darling.” You squirmed, hips keening into Feyre, her tongue flicking against your clit, screaming as you -

“Stop,” you tried to shout at him, but the scene played out - you were helpless to stop it. The pleasure ran through your body, feeling it almost as if it was happening to you now. 

Before you could shout again, you reeled back into the present - Feyre smirking at you, her hand caressing your side now. Rhys’s edged chuckle came from behind you, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. 

#feysand x reader #feysand x y/n #poly!feysand #poly!feysand x reader #poly!feysand x y/n #feyre archeron x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader #dark!feysand

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter ten

well it's love, make it hurt series

ten: I'd be a fool to have asked for more

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

for Kinktober 2023 - Day 29: Genital Pumping

This is part of a series of snapshots following dom!Din Djarin and sub!f!reader as they navigate working together as bounty hunters and exploring a d/s relationship.

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You and Mando pursue your big-ticket bounty, but it turns out to be much more dangerous than you expected.

Warnings: bdsm, established relationship, dom!din and sub!reader, soft dom din djarin, bounty hunting, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, graphic injuries, genital pumping, pussy pump, dacryphilia, aftercare, subspace, more plot than usual.

Prompts from this list by @absurdthirst.

also on ao3

3 ABY - Winter

You put a moratorium on sex. Not because you don’t want Mando, but because you’re becoming a little rabid about the hunt.

Vanda had hopped planets again, just a few steps ahead of you. What’s worse is that you don’t even know if he knows he’s being followed or if you're just failing to catch up.

Mando sulks, just a little. He doesn’t protest, but when you’re settled down for bed, he brushes a knuckle over your breast, teasing around the nipple. “Eighteen more hours until we arrive,” he says with a sigh. His finger trails delicately, dancing along your ribs and back up.

“Yep,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Plenty of time to rest and prepare.”

“Plenty,” he agrees, his hand ghosting up the line of your neck in a poor imitation of what he’d like to do with his lips. He ignores the twang of guilt when he considers that he’d probably have what he wants by now if he could use them. Thinking about it makes him ache harder, twitching where he’s pressed against your lower back.

“Stop it,” you go to scoot away, but he catches your hip with his wandering hand. You can’t help it; you moan and meet him halfway. “We are grown adults. We can go a few days.”

“The time will pass no matter how we fill it,” he says, but he pulls back a little, letting the space between you cushion his desires.

You twist your head to press a soft kiss to his helmet. “I’m s—”

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t ever apologize for saying no.”

You close your eyes for a moment. Sometimes, he says things that shouldn’t be so baffling, and yet, you’re thrown off step. “Thank you,” you say instead. You nestle back down into his arm and try to chase a pleasant dream.

It doesn’t come.

There’s a reason why the guild encourages hunters not to ask too many questions about their bounties. You haven't thought of much other than catching Vanda, haven't been sleeping well. Not since Mando recounted his conversation with Madame Anissa.

“Olin Vanda?” Anissa looked at him with wide eyes. “Dead or alive?”

“I shouldn’t discuss—”

“Dead. or. Alive?”

“Either.”

She put a hand over her chest, took a deep breath, and fixed such an intense stare on his visor that his pulse quickened. “I remember him. I can do you one better than his habits and connections. I can get you a more recent location. But you have to promise me something.”

Mando was no stranger to striking deals for information. “What do you want?”

“Promise you’ll kill him.”

It set all his nerves on end. “Tell me what you know,” he said softly, leaning forward.

“He trafficks. Young girls, orphans, whoever. He was bringing girls through here to sell.” She closed her eyes for a moment, hurt erupting across her gentle face. “Right under my nose.”

“You couldn’t have known,” he said. But neither of them believed it.

“That’s why we separated you. We do it to everyone now,” she said. Her voice was thick with resentment. “I should have noticed sooner.”

“But you did notice?”

“Yes. It’s why he was relocated from Morlana One. I reported him, and that was the ISB’s solution — cover it up. They never looked for those girls, never issued any other consequences.”

“Dank farrik,” Mando mutters.

“I’ll reach out to my network and see if anyone has had a sighting recently. He pops up at other clubs from time to time, but I flagged his face in our system, so he gets kicked out pretty quickly.”

The coordinates she gave when you left Axis were from another Madame who had seen him just two days prior. The timing couldn’t have been better, which is why you were so frustrated when he kept vanishing.

You don’t often kill bounties who can be captured. Not only because they’re usually worth more alive but because it keeps you cleaner. Lighter. Fewer souls to drag around after you drop the bodies off. But when Mando tells you of his promise to Anissa, you find yourself hoping to be the one to do it.

It could have been you. Damn near almost was. Cantonica wasn’t kind to children, particularly those with no family to protect them and no debt to work off. You were ten when the hunters came to collect your parents’ debts and took pity on you. They were partners, and while they weren’t the kind of people to go around adopting stray kids, they also weren’t the kind of people to leave one to die.

Instead, they gave you a few credits, a blaster, and the location of an abandoned scrapyard. Not that you’d told Mando any of this, but he didn’t need an explanation for why you might be bloodthirsty over this particular bounty.

Once you land, it doesn’t take long to find them. Vanda and his little band of loyalists are at a pub, cheating their way through the locals in a Sabacc tournament. There are too many potential casualties, so you track down their ships and stake out.

It’s well past dark when they arrive. The two of you are shadows, the push and pull of your motions in tandem as you take out some of the extras. No one will shed a tear over fewer Imps. They don’t even know what’s happened until half of them are bleeding out in the docking bay.

That’s when it all goes to shit. Your vibroblade is at the throat of a burly man when another comes up behind you and grabs you. His momentum lets you still manage to split the delicate tendons of his compatriot, but he has you in a chokehold, and though he screams in rage when your teeth sink into his arm, he does not drop you.

The noise splinters the silence. Everyone is abruptly aware of the fight. It would have been fine, should have been fine, until another one of Vanda’s lackeys raises a blaster at you, and something happens that you thought was impossible.

Mando stops.

He freezes and redirects his attention, shooting and killing both men you were fighting. But in that one, tiny moment of distraction, Vanda buries a large, jagged vibroblade in Mando’s exposed side.

Neither of you realizes it right away. He’s busy killing the men who were trying to hurt you, and you’re busy pursuing Vanda, who has fled toward a ship. But you don’t make it to the ramp on time, because you look over to see Mando pull the blade from his body.

He’s on his knees, trying to put pressure on the wound but investigating it at the same time. He doesn’t see Vanda aim a blaster at you, but you’re already on the move toward him, so luckily, the bolt only catches you in the shoulder.

You don’t feel it. You’re already into your pack, pulling out the small medkit you carry for field emergencies.

Mando looks up when your knees hit the ground next to him. You’re pulling his flightsuit away from the wound, but he catches your hand.

“Fuck, cyare, your shoulder, let me—”

“Are you kriffing kidding me? You’re bleeding out, let go.”

“You’ve been shot, when did you get shot?”

“Which one of us is bleeding out right now?” you yell, yanking your wrist from his grasp and plunging the needle into his side without warning. He’s shaking, the wound is gushing, and it’s too slippery to hold on to the syringe. You have to try again, but a good third of the bacta is wasted.

When you manage to get the medicine in him, you sit back, the shot abandoned at your side. “It’s not enough,” you say through deep gasps for air.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says, eerily calm.

“Which one of us is bleeding out right now?” you repeat, less fury and more frenzy. Your hands are covered in his blood, slick and sticky, and it’s still oozing from his side. You try to wipe your hands on your pants so you can dig out the needle and thread, but they’re wet with it, too.

He hands you the cauterizer. He’d do it himself, but he’s feeling faint enough to know he might black out from the pain.

“You can do it,” he says.

You’ve never used one before. Never had a wound grievous enough to require it.

“Breathe. Look at me,” he says.

You do.

“You can do this, I trust you.”

You have no choice but to believe him, not unless you’re going to leave him on the ground of the docking bay and hope he’s still alive when you get back with more bacta.

So you scrabble for a sloppy hold on the open wound and burn his skin together. It’s awful. You throw up after, stumbling to a corner behind a crate and emptying your stomach. The smell of singed flesh sticks to your clothes.

But it’s enough to get him back to the ship. Enough to get him laying on the crates in the hull while you dig up bacta patches and cover the burn. Enough that you can sit on the table and become abruptly aware of the hole in your shoulder just long enough for him to bandage you up himself.

Once you’re sure he’s not going to faint, or worse, you strip out of your ruined clothes and rinse his blood from you in the fresher. When you come back out, he’s cooking.

“What in the stars do you think you’re doing?”

“We both need to eat.”

“And you can wait five minutes for me to do it!”

“You’ve done so much, cyare, let me take care of you.”

You stomp your foot, balling your hands into fists. “You absolute idiot!” It comes out a bit more screechy than you’d like, but you think you’re entitled. “Sit down. You almost bled out. No, you know what? Go lay in the bunk.”

He turns the burner off and looks at you. Your hair is still dripping down the tunic you’ve borrowed from his shelf, and your mouth is twisted into a snarl. You’re flushed and tense, braced for a fight, but he sees the way your eyes keep flicking to his side, checking to see if the wound reopened, checking to make sure the blood is only burned into your memory and not trickling down his leg.

He regards you carefully and nods once, putting a hand up to stop the protest he knows will be coming. “Fine, but I’m staying here. I’m not leaving this room.” He moves slowly to the crates and sits down on your old bedroll. “Okay, sweetheart?”

“Fine.” You stomp around the kitchen, throwing together what can only vaguely be considered a meal. You hesitate when you hand it to him, wavering on the spot.

He knows you’re thinking the same thing. “Stay,” he says, so you don’t have to ask.

You look at him but don’t move.

He dips his helmet toward the ground and watches you work your jaw, biting your lip, before you give in and sink to your knees at his feet, facing into the belly of the ship. He sets the plate beside him and removes his gloves.

He feeds you while he eats. It’s not something you do often — you’re only barely domesticated when it comes to food security, often preferring to wolf down your meal on your own. But you can tell he needs it—needs to regain control over the situation, needs you to be close.

When he’s done, he replaces the helmet, and you take the plate to the sink.

“C’mere,” he says, reaching for your hand. You let him pull you close but protest when he tries to lift you onto the seat.

He gives in immediately, but when you hop up, he tries to pull you into his lap. “Can I have you, cyar’ika?”

“You’re hurt.”

“So are you. Fuck. I’ll be gentle.”

Your lip wobbles a little. He cups your face in one broad palm, and you lean into it, closing your eyes.

“I almost died,” he tries.

It has the opposite effect than he hoped. Your eyes snap open, and you pull away from him. “Exactly! You need to rest.”

“Can’t. Need you, pretty girl, please?”

You hesitate, so he follows it up with another, more playful “I almost died.”

“Stop it, that’s not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny. Look, if it’ll make you feel better, I have an idea.”

Your eyes narrow. “By the stars, if you say you want to try something right now, I’ll—I’ll—”

“You’ll humor me since I almost died?”

You swallow hard as the retort gets trapped behind the sudden lump in your throat.

He watches the way your lips fall slack and reaches up to curl his hand around your neck. “I’m okay,” he says.

You hold onto his wrist with both hands. “You almost died.”

His thumb brushes up and down. “Not really. You wouldn’t have let me.”

You hold back the sob, but your eyes prick at the corners, anyway. He brushes the tears away and sits up, pressing his helmet to your forehead.

“I ever tell you what this means?” his voice is so hushed, the modulator doesn’t pick it up. You only hear the real thing, the inflections, and rasp clear without the static.

“What what means?”

“This,” he pulls away a little and presses your heads back together. “This is how Mandalorians kiss when they can’t remove their helmets.”

Your chest feels like it’s been cleaved open.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

You pull back a little and carefully, slowly raise your hands up to cup the sides of his helmet before pressing your head back against his, exhaling shakily. He wraps his arms around you, nearly clinging. You shift to straddle his lap, feeling like you could crawl into him just to make sure his heart is still pulsing.

“It’s also useful for headbutting,” he says after a few minutes have passed.

When the laughter bursts from you, it springs free a few tears and a hiccup.

“Don’t cry, cyar’ika. I told you, I wasn’t worried. We’re a good team. I know you have my back.”

It only makes you cry harder.

“Hey, save those tears for later,” he murmurs. “You’ll need them after I’ve worn you out.”

You sniffle. “I knew you liked it.”

He thinks about telling you why. He thinks about telling you how the moments you burst into tears are how he knows you love him, even if you won’t say it. How it feels to know he’s the only one in the galaxy you’ll be vulnerable with, that you trust.

“What can I say? You’re so pretty when you suffer for me, sweetheart,” he says instead. Maybe later. Maybe when you both aren’t so raw, when he thinks you’re less likely to hide and lick your wounds.

He’s a patient man. He can wait for you.

His words make you squirm, and he takes the opening.

“I think you like it too,” he says, curling fingers under your chin. “You want me to make you suffer, cyare? Ready to try something new?”

You nod, looking into his visor with wet but yearning eyes. You knew you were going to give in. He had almost died. You wanted him to stitch up the part of you that had been so afraid.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs and pushes a thumb between your lips for you to suck on.

Your eyes flutter shut, the taste of him like iron and petrichor.

“Let’s go to the bed,” he murmurs. “I really do want to try something. It’ll make it easier to be careful.”

“Okay.”

When you’ve persuaded him that whatever you’re doing can be done with you both lying down and resting, he shows you a strange device.

“Is that for like… drugs or something?” you ask, squishing the soft rubber piece that looks like a mask.

“No, this is what’s going to help me ruin your cunt since you won’t let me move around.”

“Oh,” you whisper. You don’t understand, but you’re wet in anticipation anyway.

“Open,” he taps your knee.

You obey. You’re already starting to feel a little fuzzy around the edges. The adrenaline was wearing off fast, and he had slipped his collar around your neck a few moments earlier. And you know he needs this—you certainly do. He fits the little mask over your pussy. You clench your fist, trying to breathe steady. He shows you the bulb he’s attached to the end of a tube, and you realize what it’s for right as he squeezes it, and the mask pulls tight to you.

He pumps it a few more times as you stare at the hand holding the bulb. The sensation isn’t much, not yet, just a gentle hold and a faint tingle.

He watches your face. “How does it feel?”

“More, please, sir,” you say quickly.

It’s not quite an answer to his question, but he’s fairly sure you’re already gone, head empty of the day’s fear and drifting off at his whim. So he obliges. He can tell the moment it crosses into something ravenous.

Your eyes widen, pupils blown, and your mouth falls open. He can see your pussy lips swelling a little already and greedily pumps the bulb until you moan.

“That tight enough for you?” he asks, running a careful finger along the edge of the pump and your flesh. He’s rewarded with a shudder and retracts his hand.

“More, please.”

“Careful what you ask for,” he warns, but he’s already increasing the pressure. It’s sealed tight around your cunt, and he sets the bulb down, eager to watch you squirm.

You don’t disappoint. As the moments stack up, as five minutes creep by, you’re trying very hard to hold still and failing catastrophically. He traces the outline, skimming over throbbing flesh. A wicked grin grows as your whines increase in pitch and desperation.

After a few more minutes, he checks in again, noting the sheen of sweat on your brow. “Does it hurt yet?” he murmurs.

“A-a little,” you say, fidgeting.

“You want me to take it off and touch you?”

“Oh fuck.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he lays on the fake pity. “I’m just trying to help you, cyare, you need to tell me what you want.”

“Please,” you cry. “Please, more.”

“More what? More this?” he squeezes the bulb again, not that there’s much more he can do, but you wail anyway.

“Please, please touch me.”

He grabs the end of the pump and yanks. It pops off, and you keen, grabbing at him with shaking hands.

“Hmm.” He takes a moment to thoroughly enjoy the sight of your swollen, dripping cunt. He reaches down and lazily drags a finger across the seam, laughing when your hips buck up hard, knocking his finger between your lips.

“No, please,” you say as he pulls the finger away.

He spreads you, the tip of his finger honing in on your throbbing clit. His caress is soft, at first, and it doesn’t take you more than a moment to reach the edge. He doesn’t wait for you to beg, just demands your orgasm from your body with a strict command and stricter hands.

It hurts. It hurts so much you scream, but your body betrays how good it feels, despite the agony and humiliation. He’s relentless. It takes so little effort for him to tear you apart that by the time he eases you onto your side so he can slip his cock in, there’s nothing left in your tattered brain.

His thrusts are smooth but deep. You’re more than wet enough to ease the way, and swollen enough that your cunt swallows him whole, holding him tight. He luxuriates in the velvet embrace, groaning and rocking into you in spite of the ache in his side.

He abandons your clit, trading mercy for other tortures as his hands pinch and pull at your nipples. His grip is as tight as clamps, and he uses your tits as leverage to fuck into you. He urges you to cum again, and it pries a raw sob from your chest.

When he can’t take it anymore, he holds on to your breasts, one clenched tight in each hand, and pounds hard. You’re crying, but it’s reduced to little huffed sobs as his cock knocks them loose. He knows you’ll be mad that he’s exerting himself, so he makes it quick.

“Mine,” he snarls as he loses control, pushing deep inside to fill you. “You’re fucking mine, do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, please, yours,” you gasp.

“Don’t you fucking scare me like that again.” He can’t shut up. He can’t stopper the well as it bubbles up. “Almost fucking lost you.”

Later, you’ll remember what he’s saying, and snap at him indignantly, demanding again to know which of you nearly bled out. But it doesn’t matter, doesn’t register to him that your injuries and danger were so much less than his. All he can see is the man with a blaster pointed at your chest.

“Didn’t,” you say. “M’right here.” Your hand reaches up to hold the back of his neck. He’s softening inside you but doesn’t move to pull out.

He checks your bandage, but it looks intact. You try to roll over and check his, but he holds you tight. “It’s fine,” he reassures you. “Please stay.”

And if he’s bleeding just a little, he thinks, it was worth it for the way you’re finally calm enough to rest.

*title from "Everything Must Go" by Taking Back Sunday

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x f!reader #dom din djarin #the mandalorian fic #mando fic #make it hurt verse #kinktober 2023

[slashthrashandcrash]

*still twirling phone cord, hi it's me again* I think one of the other things about the slasher x final girl dynamic is the subversion of expectation. For so many of us girlies like myself we're used to men being aggressive, violent, even abusive, but when the slasher (maybe even covered in blood, maybe even after committing terrible acts earlier in the film) is with her, how is HE the only hand that caresses her gently? How is HE the only one who genuinely cares about her safety? It's both hot and romantic and terrifying and also oddly childlike in how incongruent it is with previous patterns. It's not fair but it feels both nice and wrong and intimate and dangerous and

Are you there God, it's me, Danny--

See see see, you and @unnamed-blob would get along swimmingly when it comes to loving soft yanderes that are possessive and sweet to their darling while being a killing machine towards anyone who gets between them. Me, though? I like that spice, I want him to still be rough and mean because frankly, it's all he knows and understands. Grabbing things that he wants has always worked before, just make her settle down by force and eventually it'll be smooth sailing.

But this new feeling of love and desire is so painfully foreign, he doesn't know how to hold himself together when it comes to her. He knows violence and bloodshed and the thrill of the chase, not butterflies in his stomach when he thinks about her alone. It feels similar to bloodlust, in fact that's what he assumed it was at first when he went after her, but every time he corners her he just...fuck, he doesn't know what he wants. He wants her. It's making him crazy, confused, angry -- what the fuck kind of hold does she have on him? If he could get rid of her then everything would go back to status quo, but he just can't bring himself to do it. It's her fault he's like this, she either needs to fix it or be punished for it.

It makes the times when he genuinely tries to be soft and gentle all the more rewarding, because god damn is he trying but still failing so miserably. Flowers and gifts and hair pets, those are things girls like, right? So if she likes them, then she'll like him, and then he can finally understand the turmoil inside of him and...oh, wait, yeah she's rejecting every token of affection he's trying to force on her, be it because it's still soaked in blood or because she just doesn't trust anything he drops in her lap. He's hurt by her rejection, can't she see the effort he's putting in just for her?? Doesn't that earn him ANY favor?? Well, if she wants to be ungrateful, then she'll have to make it up to him instead to win back his kind gestures.

He's so desperate for her love and attention that he'll get it through any means necessary, and the minute, the second, she reciprocates even a fraction of affection, it's all over. He'll be her smitten lapdog. He's had a taste of what he's been craving but could never quite name and now he's starving for more. It doesn't matter if it was something she said in a panic, if she was just trying to distract him, was lying to play along with his obvious fantasy as part of her escape attempt -- he doesn't care. He needs more of it or he may actually slaughter this entire town in his search for her. If he can't have her, then he'll make sure there's no one left who could.

#ask #anon #slasher x final girl

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

The wager

Day 4 Prompts:  The hunter and the hunted

For: @feast-of-horns

Rating: M

Pairing: Meássë/Nessa 

Themes: NSFW / NSFT

Warnings: Kissing

Wordcount: 1.4K words

Summary: Meássë has a wager with Nessa to see if she could capture the other Valië during the chase.

Minors DNI | 18+

This is also available on AO3

It all began with a wager. Lady Nessa insisted no one could capture her. The fierce warrior many looked on in fear swore she would succeed where others had failed. 

“Can a lioness outrun one faster than the deer that follows her train?” Nessa replied over her goblet of wine. She smiled. “Can she capture one who is so swift of foot?” 

Meássë smiled, her eyes full of wicked humor. “This lioness has not feasted on failure before, little dancer, nor will she feast on it now. I will succeed; you will see.” 

“Shall we put your bold declaration to the test, my lady?” Varda said, rising. The Star-Kindler was in a fine mood, and the challenge served to whet her appetite for more sensual delights. The other revelers ceased eating and drinking and laughing when they saw the queen standing to attention by her place on the dais. Attendants stood where they were, their hands heavy with platters laden with food and flagons full of wine and ale and mead. The air around them all crackled with anticipation. Something new and unexpected was about to take place. 

“Aye, my queen!” Meássë was never one to walk away from a challenge. She rose as well, her drinking horn firmly in hand. “We will have a wager! If I fail to capture Lady Nessa during the chase, I will tend to her in whatever way she wishes for a full twelvemonth.” 

“And if I fail to escape, I shall tend to Lady Meássë in whatever way she desires for a full twelvemonth,” Nessa returned, and then she smiled again and said, “Though I would not consider such a failure to be a dreadful thing.” 

Her smile was wide and soft, and her eyes held many unspoken promises. Meássë drained the last of her ale, emboldened by both the challenge and by Lady Nessa’s words. She gave her empty drinking horn to a passing attendant to take. 

There is more to what she said, she thought, and I cannot wait to discover it for myself.  

Oromë arose; he asked his lady to fetch his horn for him. Lady Vána left his side and returned to him not long after, with the Valaróma perched on a crimson pillow. The Hunter and the Ever-Young then left the dais and walked hand in hand to the gathering field. The other revelers made haste to follow them for the time of the chase was near at hand.

“Hunted!” He cried after they had all assembled in the field. “Are you ready for what is about to happen next?” 

The cheers that followed echoed through the field and forest like a thunderous roar. Oromë was pleased. He lifted the Valaróma to his lips and blew a clear call. Those who put themselves forward as the hunted raced around thick trunks of trees, shouting and laughing even as they vanished into the shadows and mists beyond them. Oromë waited until the last of them was out of sight.

“Hunters!” He turned to face the others and cried again. “Are you ready?” 

The roars that answered him were nearly deafening. He sounded the Valaróma for the second time, and all those who would give chase pursued those they wished to claim for themselves. 

Meássë wasted no time dithering. She raced around the gnarled trunks of ancient but mighty trees, her eyes fixed firmly on her prize. Nessa was indeed as swift as the poets made her out to be; neither hide nor hair of hers could be seen. She ran past the others, looking this way and that, and she stopped only when a familiar elven lord crossed her path. 

“Hail and well met, Lord Tyelkormo,” she said. “I wonder if you have seen a certain Valië flitting about during the chase.” 

If anyone knew how to find Oromë’s sister, it would be either the Lord of Forests himself or one of the hunters who followed his horn. And the third son of Fëanáro had distinguished himself as the most renowned of the elven hunters who followed their lord. 

“Hail and well met, great lady.” Tyelkormo smiled. He held a delicate but incredibly strong net of gilded rope weighed down on all ends with smooth, round stones in his hand. “I know of the Valië you seek. When I last saw her, she was by the northern shore of the mirror lake. You may still find her there if you are quick enough.” 

“My thanks,” Meássë replied. 

The elf bowed and went on his way. Meássë did the same, halting briefly to admire the many fireflies that danced about her with their pale, flickering light limning the trees and bushes around them in green and gold hues. She continued to seek out her prey and she found her tarrying by the northern shore of the mirror lake, just as Tyelkormo said. Nessa was kneeling by the lake’s edge, drinking handfuls of clear, still water. The deer that followed her train were behind her, nibbling off the tender leaves of new shrubs and young trees. Meássë took care to conceal herself by crouching low to the forest floor.  

“I know you are there,” Nessa declared. She turned to face the trees on her right. “Come out of the shadows, warrior, and show yourself.” 

Meássë stepped forth, unable to comprehend how she gave herself away. “How did you learn of my presence, my lady?” 

“The scent of iron, my lady.” Nessa smiled, rising. Her deer kept a wary distance. They were frightened by Meássë's mere presence alone. “It clings to you like perfume.” 

“A skill you learned at your brother’s knee?” 

“Aye. My brother taught me many things: how to sniff out prey, how to outrun them, and how to outwit them.” 

“And yet you tarry here.” Meássë took a step forward. It startled the deer. They fled from her and ran deeper into the forest. “Why?” 

“Because I was waiting for you,” Nessa said. She took a step back, her eyes alight with good-natured mischief. Meássë’s eyes narrowed in amusement and determination. She will find no easy conquest here. Her victory would have to be earned the difficult way. “Now that you are here, we can begin our chase again.” 

The Valië turned sharply on her heel and ran, her laughter ringing out like crystal bells. Meássë chased after her, her laughter unrestrained and booming as she dogged her every move. This time, she made it nigh impossible for Nessa to escape her, for she was always a pace behind her. Or perhaps, she thought, the Dancer was not running as swiftly as she was wont to do. 

Does she wish to be captured? She thought. Is that why she is just beyond my grasp and no further than that? 

It was an enticing notion, and Meássë was not about to let to such a golden opportunity slip away from her. She picked up her pace, and just as Nessa was about to run around yet another tree, she grabbed her arm by the wrist, and wild laughter erupted from them both as they fell to the forest floor beneath them in a tangle of limbs.  

“I yield!” Nessa cried, still laughing, “I yield, my lady!”

“Just so.” Meássë sat astride her hips and smiled triumphantly. “Now tell me. How will you honor your part of our wager, my lady?”

“Like this!” Nessa grinned wickedly and grappled with the warrior, rolling her onto her back after she gained an advantage. She leaned down and kissed her companion, open-mouthed and hungry. Meássë returned her kiss with the same passion that she received, her hands tangling in thick, auburn hair. Then Nessa withdrew, smiling as she drew her finger along the other Valië’s finely formed squared jaw, and admired the strong lines of her face.

“Have I pleased you with the way I have begun, my lady?” She asked.

“Aye.” Meássë was content to lay as she was, with soft, fallen leaves beneath her and her companion perched above her. Nessa was still smiling, her vivid green eyes glittering like twin stars. “You have more than pleased me with the morsel you have already offered, my lady. Pray tell me what else you have in store for me.”

“I will not tell you,” Nessa returned as she drew her finger down Meássë’s throat and over the fine leathers she wore. Her touch, light as it was, was enough to make the latter shiver. “I will show you instead.”

Meássë closed her eyes when Nessa sought her lips again.

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

#feastofhorns #feastofhorns2024 #nessa #meássë #nessa x meássë #the silm #the silmarillion #the silm fanfiction

[deadpoetinautumn]

Steve Harrington and his god-awful music

Steve Harrington has been moping about for two weeks now. Nancy Wheeler chose Jonathan Byers over him for the second time in his life - the first being in 1984 and somehow just as crushing. I’ve been there for both, regrettably. I was there when he whimpered in his sleep and wept on his pillow. I was there when he ‘got back on the scene’ again after it all, like bambi on ice. I was there when he whined on about Robin Buckley being ‘the one’ until she wasn’t any longer. Most irritatingly though, I have been there through every use of his utterly horrific heartbreak mixtape.

‘Say it isn’t so’, ‘Where do broken hearts go?’, ‘(I just) Died in your arms’, ‘why’

The list goes on and on. It’s the most vicious form of torture because there is nothing I can do about it. I’ve tried putting him onto The Smiths, The Cure, god only knows I’ve tried. It’s no use. He’s unmovable every time. And this time is no different.

Steve is on my bed on his back, legs hanging off the edge and into oblivion. His Walkman is on, and by no means quiet. I can hear it through the headphones. I’m at my desk trying, and failing to work. The playlist is on its fourth loop. I’m getting restless. I swivel round in my seat with one sharp movement. He does not budge.

“You said you were over Nancy three weeks ago. What’s changed?” My voice is more bitter and clipped than I intended it to be. As expected there’s nothing but a shrug. His gaze remains fixed on my textured bedroom ceiling. His eyes are unblinking.

This is killing me. I think, snatching up the little stack of matches and lucky strikes in my inkwell and heading for the open window.

***

It’s been a month since the Nancy incident and Harrington is talking again. I’ll never say it out loud but god is it nice to see that grin again. Robin Buckley ruins it, as per, by greeting us with a “How are you lovebirds doing?” And a sly grin, to which Steve screws up his nose. “Gross, Robin, seriously.” I wince.

He’s still got the odd quiet moment; He’ll he spaced out and when I hit him with a “Hey, Steve-o, what-cha thinkin’?” He looks at me, purses his lips into some semblance of what’s supposed to be a reassuring smile, shakes his head and says “It’s nothing.”

Steve didn’t used to “it’s nothing.” Steve used to be a total dick. And I was friends with him anyway because he was all I had. It started out that I was his tutor for English, which he always found funny because I actually am British. He’d ask me when I came to America every week. The same question. It wasn’t to be funny, or clever or even mean. It was because he genuinely couldn’t remember. He’d ask me things about myself and would’ve forgotten by the next week. That was end of middle school, start of high school so I don’t blame him. Prime ‘King Steve’ era, he had lots to be thinking about. And I was nobody.

But he still came round to my house every week. He brought my Mother flowers on her birthday and he “Heya Buddy”-ed my little brother when he came in to see what we were doing. And he got a B plus in that class at the end of semester which was, lightly put, an absolute miracle. And so he kept seeing me. All through high school. All through the girlfriends and the basketball tournaments and the pep rallies. He somehow kept up his real American high school experience and me. At the same time. I guess that’s why I was so fond of Steve “the hair” Harrington before he became the babysitter. He never did give me much, but it was always just enough.

And now look at us. Here we are, Nineteen years old and openly best friends. We’re at somebody’s College Party. (I do the classes, Steve does the parties.) There are benches in the Frat house garden and Steve is lying across one, semi passed out, hand drooped and withered on his wrist like a dried rose on its stalk. His favourite song is playing on stereo inside, ‘Object of my Desire’ by Starpoint. Total shit. Completely typical that he’s missing it. He’s utterly plastered. I’m sitting on the floor facing him, smoking, stone-cold sober. I’ve never been one for partying. Steve likes to tease me for it, calls me Grandma. I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s because my Dad is an alcoholic. He’d only feel needlessly bad, I don’t want that.

I look at the way the light from inside falls on his face, casting its deep amber glow across his features. I look at the outline of his nose, and the way his eyelashes graze the skin on his cheek. I look at the way his lips part and the way the moles on his face are dotted like sparse freckles. I watch the way his brow creases like he’s having a nightmare; it makes him look troubled. I reach out my hand to soothe him, to smooth the gathered skin there.

All of a sudden he stirs, mumbling, groaning. I jump back, retracting my hand like lightning. He murmurs my name as he settles back into slumber and it sounds like honey on his lips. That is, before he lets out the most unholy snore I’ve ever heard in my life, at which I giggle like a little girl, and slump back against the plant pot at my spine as the song changes into something marginally more acceptable.

***

It’s the beginning of winter now, my birthday was weeks ago. Steve takes me skating on Lover’s Lake. I try not to think anything of the name. It’s just a coincidence. He plays Daryl Hall and John Oates all the way there in the car. It’s unbearable, I almost ask him to turn it off. That is before he starts singing along, and I erupt in laughter. We’re still laughing when we get out of the car at the lake. Once my skates are on I look to him. He’s standing and ready to go, but skateless.

“Aren’t you putting your skates on?” I ask him, tilting my head to the side.

He smiles, looking serene. “I thought it would be sensible to watch you, make sure you don’t drown.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You are a liability you know.” He’s joking but I can sense the anxiety in his voice. I’ve known him too long for him to be able to hide it. I reach out for him, letting my touch rest gently on his arm. He shivers with what’s presumably the cold.

“Steve, look at me.”

There’s a second before he looks.

“It’s done. He’s gone. It’s over.”

“I know.” He replies. I can tell he’s disregarding everything I say, so I huff and skate off with one languid movement. I can hear him pottering after me.

We skate for a while, the cold nipping at our cheeks. His go apple-shaped and rosy, his eyes glassy and wide. It makes me grin. He grins back. I love seeing him happy again.

Quite suddenly I give a start, my eyes widening as I’m propelled backwards and down, tumbling, falling. Steve goes white and lets out a yelp, reaching for me. He catches me by the shoulders just as I hit the Ice, pulling me to him so forcefully my back nearly snaps in two.

“Jesus, woah woah Steve.” I exclaim, waving my arms. “It’s okay, it’s alright, I just fell.” I’m reaching for him. My arms hook themselves around his neck. I can feel how erratically he’s breathing. He lets out a whimper and scoops me up like I’m dying, clinging onto me. I go to run my hands through his hair to soothe him and he doesn’t even swat me off, that’s how distressed he is. He practically drags me across the ice and manhandles me back to the car. Neither of us say a word as he drives me home.

***

It’s the New Year now, 1987. Steve’s music taste hasn’t improved with age. Neither has the fact that I’m, begrudgingly, in love with him. He appears at my door first thing in the morning on New Year’s Day looking distinctly rough with a lump of coal in hand. Morrissey’s new-ish single is playing on my record player. I pretend not to notice as he screws up his nose at it.

“I’ve come to be your foot first.” He says with what I presume is supposed to be a dashing grin.

“My first foot.” I correct him.

“Yeah your foot first, whatever.” He barges his way past me into my apartment. When he’s in my bedroom he turns to me and wiggles his eyebrows.

“You have now officially got good luck for the rest of the year.”

“Let’s bloody hope so.” I murmur under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

***

We’re in the supermarket and I’m gathering up the courage to tell him. One of his songs are playing on the loudspeakers, I don’t know which one it is. I don’t care either. My hands are sweating. I’m going to say it. Here goes nothing. I open my mouth. And then Robin appears like a phantom apparition from nowhere with her supermarket uniform on. Shit.

“Evening lovebirds.” She grins. He sighs, and my heart gives a hopeful leap when he doesn’t berate her, only tiredly asks her where the maple syrup is. I pretend not to notice the excited wink Robin shoots him, or the smug look on her face that says ‘I knew he’d come around’. But he hasn’t come around. Not yet anyway.

***

Steve drives me home, changing the cassette in his car before opening the doors and getting out with me. It’s raining like a fucking monsoon. We make a mad dash to the porch together, jackets over heads, laughing, pushing, splashing. Until we’re in the dry. We’re breathing hard, ghosts of laughs still etched somewhere on our features, but falling fast. Steve looks at the ground and chuckles nervously. I watch a raindrop caress the straight line of his nose and fall onto his bottom lip. My thumb twitches at my side.

“Did I ever tell you about that time Nancy got stuck in a thunderstorm with a pink dress on?” He chuckles again. Something within me falls and shatters. I’m rifling through my head to find the ability within myself to act nonchalant. I manage a tight smile, but Steve seems to notice he’s said something wrong before he even has to read my expression.

“I didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine.” I move to open the door.

“No wait, I’m sorry, let me just-“ he’s moving after me. I wish he’d go away. I’m trying desperately to get away from him before I start crying.

He takes a gentle hold of my upper arm, and mutters my name, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth once, softly, in apology.

I’m turning slowly, tearful. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t pretend.

He looks at me and sighs, wiping one tear away with his thumb and then leaning in to kiss away the other. I’m a bit startled by this, confused. Even more baffled when I realise he’s sliding his hands up both of my arms and cradling me against his chest, hands holding my head to him.

“Why is it so easy for you to believe I’m in love with anyone else but you?” He asks me with a sigh.

I sniffle. “What?”

He sighs again, deeply, and pulls away, hands on either side of my face.

“What are we gonna do with you.” He smiles at my expression.

“Steve-“

He hushes me easily. Kisses my forehead, the bridge of my nose, the tip, and finally his lips fold against mine. They dance around one another until we’re comfortable enough for them to just meet.

“I love you and your shitty songs.” He murmurs against them.

I just laugh and look up at Steve Harrington, because I have never been so in love with anyone in my life, let alone someone with such blatantly awful taste in music.

#steve harrington #stranger things #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington one shot #steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington headcanons #stranger things 4

[szasfuckingwife]

hi bb ^^ can i ask for bonten with an fem! executive (platonic) that over dresses everytime like her thank you hehe

FASHION KILLA

OFC LOVE I LOVE MUNYEONG <3333

Bonten x Excecutive!Fem!reader (platonic)

MANJIRO SANO

I mean he’s not a big dresser himself so when he saw you walk through the door (on your first day) wearing literal vintage Chanel, he was questioning life choices.

He’s never hired anyone who had dressed like you before so you walking in wearing literal millions was a… different surprise.

“Why are you wearing glasses? It’s not sunny..” He asked you before the weekly Bonten meeting started.

You shrugged. “Felt like it. They look nice, right?”

He couldn’t deny that.

KAKUCHO HITTO

Like his boss, he was very shocked when seeing your spontaneous outfits every week. He wondered how big your closet was and how you’re still walking considering how many heels he’s seen you in.

However, he had to maintain professionalism. Indulging in fashion choices wasn’t an aspiration that he desired at all (ironic)

“Kakucho, have you seen my earring anywhere?” You stormed into his office whilst he was looking through documents. A aggravated sigh left the mans mouth.

“Which one? The Vivienne westwoods? Or the Pradas?”

You smiled, impressed at his memory. “You know me so well.”

HAJIME KOKONOI

Complete opposite of the last two. In fact he wanted to see how spontaneous you could get with your fits.

He was sure that he could outdress you and even made a bet on who was best dressed for the week. He couldn’t lose, not Kokonoi.

You made your way into the elevator when Kokonoi rushed in after you. Of course, the tension was thick as this ongoing competition had kept you on your toes.

“Is that Dior?” You asked, gesturing to his suit.

“It is. Custom made.” He tried so hard to hide his smirk.

You let out an impressed hum and shortly, made your way onto your floor. All that was on your mind was how you’d eat him up with what you’re wearing tomorrow.

SANZU HARUCHIYO

He really liked how you dressed. It was extravagant just like him. That was how Sanzu became your closest work friend.

He often asked for advice on what to wear. Having 20 inch cotton candy pink hair didn’t suit every outfit so he needed your opinion on it.

“Are you sure the tie is fine?” He asked as you were fixing it for him. For the 100th time that day, you let out a groan.

“Haruchiyo, I already said this : the Yellow suits your eyes.” You replied. “And shut up, you know you look good.”

He chuckled as he walked into the building.

RAN HAITANI

He was kind of confused. At first, he thought you were a tailor or fashion designer hired by Koko.

When he learned that you’d actually be on Bonten’s executive team, his confusion grew to excitement.

He swore you would never catch him dead complementing what you wore. Ever.

And you held him to that.

“Did you see what she was wearing yesterday?” Ran asked Rindou as they walked down the hallway. “It’s like every day she never fails to amaze me.”

“Aww, thank you, Ran!”

His heart literally dropped. Slowly, the lilac haired man turned around to see your beaming face. But something was different.

You were wearing the same suit he was.

And, arguably, better.

RINDOU HAITANI

He never admitted it but he really found you bursting through the meeting room in Givenchy or Mugler quite amusing.

You always had a prep in your step whenever you wore something new. And he liked that about you, your confidence.

In his peripheral, he saw you concentrated on how your headband looked on you. You adjusted it slightly to the left…No to the right…Maybe the left again.

Rindou was getting fed up now. You were distracting him from listening to the important notices that both of you would have to comply to.

He thought you were done as you put down your mirror but then, you picked it up again.

He had enough now.

“It looks better without it.” He said to you. “The headband is too distracting and it doesn’t let people see your hairstyle.”

He was right. You knew he was right. It was like a epiphany. You took the headband off your head as Rindou turned his head around and went back to listening.

“Thank you, Rin-Rin!”

He groaned.

#tokyo revengers #bonten #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x you #ran haitani fluff #ran haitani #ran haitani headcanons #mikey x you #sano mikey manjiro #mikey x reader #mikey tokyo revengers #bonten mikey #bonten kakucho #kakucho x y/n #kakucho headcanons #kakucho fluff #koko x reader #kokonoi hajime #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu headcanons #rindou x reader #rindou haitani #rindou headcanons #bonten sanzu

[callmewishful]

I have thoughts about Matthias’s childhood, his personality at the academy, and his shift after the death of his wife and child and now you’re going to hear them too.

(Bullet points because it’s easy)

Matthias’s childhood…left something to be desired. In a territory that is the only thing between Sreng and Faerghus, I think it’s easy to put strength and duty above all else. Yes I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again.

I think emotions were a no-no in the Gautier household. Crying is weakness, sadness is dumb (either fix it or move on), jealousy is pointless, etc. Focus on your duties. Matthias was to be the next Margrave and as Margrave you gotta be strong, clear-headed, and logical.

I also think Matthias’s father was about unwavering obedience (because not doing so against Sreng gets you killed) and he’s got no time for shenanigans with his duties

Because Gautier is super duty/learning focused, I think Matthias didn’t meet Lambert and Rodrigue until the academy. Friends are distractions, kids. But when he did meet them…that was a wild ride for him. The Future King and Duke…s-skip class? Get into TROUBLE? *clutches pearls*

No one can avoid the shenanigans of Lambert and Rodrigue though, so of course Matthias gets pulled in. He tries to keep himself out of it, but the two boys need help when their schemes fail and who’s the most cunning? Matthias.

And the shrewd boy is rewarded with stolen snacks (Rodrigue has all of his favorites memorized), game nights (Lambert is surprisingly good at chess), jokes (Matthias pretends to hate but can’t help laughing at) and genuine care.

Therefore I think Daddy Gautier loosens up a little, learns to relax, learns to have…fun? And friends? Who knew you could enjoy yourself and fulfill all the duties required of you? Who knew others really could care about you with nothing expected in return? These people just like him…and that’s why they hang around? It’s a brave new world.

Sometimes compromises must be made to keep them all sane. Matthias agrees to skip his third training session of the day to get into mischief if Lambert and Rodrigue will attend class with him in the morning, etc. Point is, the boys start to balance each other out.

Things are pretty smooth sailing. And then Rodrigue rushes ahead into battle and Lambert and Matthias nearly have a heart attack. Lambert and Matthias get into a fist fight about saving Rodrigue because damnit he needs help but both boys have such strong opinions on how to best do it.

It’s the first time Lambert and Rodrigue really realize that Matthias will quite literally do anything to help them, despite all his grumbling. Duty and respect be damned, he’ll even fist fight the king.

Of course they knew Matthias liked them and cared for them in his own little way, but that’s the first time they realized just how far Matthias would go for them. Maybe even the first time Matthias really realizes how deep into this friendship he is. Their bonds only strengthen from there as they all realize that they’re stuck with each other no matter what.

They graduate (even Lambert and Rodrigue lol), take over their territories, get married, have kids (for Matthias). And life is great!

Until it isn’t.

After he loses his wife, things take a drastic turn for the worst.

Everything his father told him about not getting close to people and people only bringing you pain comes true. If he’d kept his wife at a distance, she couldn’t hurt him. If he kept his joy and love in check and was emotionless and logical, this couldn’t hurt him. But he didn’t do that and he ignored his father and now Sreng took damn-near everything he held dear because he showed weakness and he was vulnerable and damn it all he hurts unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

By pure accident he snaps at Rodrigue and his friend doesn’t speak to him for a couple weeks. He thought that things would be better, because if he didn’t have his friends close, they couldn’t hurt him either. But instead he learns that he’s too far deep and Rodrigue not returning his apology makes it all worse because not only has he lost his wife and child but one of closest friends and it feels lonely and it amplifies the wounds he already has on his heart.

He realizes that cutting them off doesn’t fix the pain. But now he doesn’t know how to fix it. All he knows is that he can’t save himself. The most important thing now is to make sure his friends don’t ever feel this way and to ensure Sreng can’t take anything else from him. The next best thing he can come up with and do for them is start heeding his father’s advice.

So he keeps himself guarded instead. He hopes that if he shields his emotions that he won’t hurt his friends so bad when something happens to him.

Because let’s face it, Matthias will do anything for those he loves. He cares about them deeply, but damn if he doesn’t have a backwards-ass way of showing it

And that’s it. That’s his whole character. A man who cares but has a backwards-ass way of showing it that accidentally makes things worse instead of better.

#I project onto this man so hard #I love him #sorry this got long #matthias raoul gautier #margrave Gautier

[miradragoncat]

Lee Sur Pallor Song

!WARNING, SPOILERS FOR ALL OF THE AURELIAN CYCLE!

I just realized what song sums up Lee sur Pallor's character from The Aurelian Cycle by Rosaria Munda (It's my favorite book series, be sure to check it out when you can, it's amazing). I was just vibing to Bad Omens as I do, and when Never Know came on it clicked. I'm rereading the series now, so it makes sense why it would click now and not when I first heard the song. Every lyric in Never Know is perfect for him, and some are very good for Antigone sur Aela as well, but I'm going into Lee's character with this song.

The very first words are, "Show me you're better off without me" . With Lee's conflicting sides with his family in New Pythos and, in Flamefall, the Passi. So he has to leave Annie on her own, although he has in the past like in Albans when they fought, and in the future where he risked his life and ended Pallor's so that she could escape and win.

The second line in the first verse is "Choking on every word you said". The silence between him and Annie of knowing too much about the other and their past, and when they just talked at Annie's old house, where she was choking on her words as it played out. And how they fight a lot, and have to keep their distance and silence to stay focused on their goals. Every time one leaves the other right after they swore to do this together, the other is choking on that promise that has been broken.

The repeating phrase throughout the entire song, "we'll see", is the way nobody knows how things will play out. How conflicted Lee is throughout the books, with his aching for his family, having to just see what Julia is like before choosing his side. With the Passi, how the riots will play out and how him and Annie will do. How many chances he has to get back his old life, with Ixion sur Niter coming to reign and hunting down Annie. He didn't know how it would play out when he was locked in the Big House as it was burnt down. The plan nearly failed, with Pallor's life gone. And the court plan almost failed, with Ixion's gained knowledge of her distant summoning.

"Don't breathe another word about me, I'll leave and you can finally rest in peace, we'll see" is the next two lines in Never Know. I think of how he faked his death, how the world thought that the Revolution's Son had died at the hands of his cousin. Also how he has to let go of his family and past so many times over to finally leave them behind. In Albans, killing Julia, facing Ixion. So many times he abandoned his heritage and family, only for it to catch up with him eventually until there was no family at all.

The pre-chorus is hard for me to do one line at a time, so this is the entire thing, "When I go out into the world, I just don't like what I see, You could call it Paradise, But it looks just like Hell to me" Remember this is repeating and I won't be doing this like 2-3 times. I like how it plays to his need to change the world, through becoming a Guarding, joining the Passi, and helping Annie make a new Guardian and governing system. Others like the Golds and Atreus saw a paradise, while him and the lower classes and lower born guardians only saw hell. And they fixed it, so it became more of a Paradise, though a pure paradise for everyone involved is impossible to get.

The chorus is beautiful to me, and speaks to the very core of him. The first and third lines are, "Lying in between the memories choking me, and". These beautiful words line his character of having so many memories of his past, so many desires conflicting with each other. But he isn't his past, and the present and future won't allow him to ever be that again. These desires make him act compromised by speaking with Julia and pretending to agree with Ixion for so long after he took over for that bit.

The line after that and the last line of the chorus goes, "I don't know which way to go, but I'm okay to never know". This goes with his conflictedness again, he doesn't know whether to choose his nostalgia or the world where he can have Annie, and where the world will stop burning the innocent and the weak. For so long he doesn't know which way to go, and this song represents the middle of his character arch where he is changing sides and ideals so much, breaking Annie over and over to save them both.

The second verse starts with, "Speaking in languages we can't read, No need for you to spell it out for me, for me". |t essentially means that he knows exactly the situation of the world, and doesn't need it spelled out for him to understand, even though it can't be spelled out. He knows the class Irons are starving and the Golds are having parties and feasts, he has lived both of those lives. He knows the class Irons are burning in the flamefalls, he sees it on Cor's face and the ashes of so many people. He knows he has to pick a side, because he can't have his old life and his new one. He can't have his family and Annie.

The third and fourth lines' lyrics are, "Swallowed up and I spit you out, Like a drug that just wouldn't stay down, stay down". This line to me speaks of how many times he had to abandon or hurt Annie and how she felt, like he was spitting her back out. Also how even with his desires, he betrays his family and chooses the side that tried to kill him more than once.

The chorus is all that's left of the song after this, so that's all of my analysis of Never Know by Bad Omens as a Lee sur Pallor theme song. If you haven't yet, you should check out the song and the band, along with the book series. I love all three of them so much, and I'm glad I could make this connection. I know it's a giant word vomit above, but I enjoy writing and I hope you can understand my connection to Lee and Never Know. Have a wonderful day, and know that you are loved and valid!

#antigone sur aela #lee sur pallor #Rosaria Munda #the aurelian cycle #leo stormscourge #bad omens #bad omens band #noahsebastian #never know #theme song #character theme songs #character theme song #lee sur pallor theme song #finding god before god finds me #fgbgfm

[getmemymicroscope]

This one has been on my 'watch list' for a while, though I was getting foiled by the simple fact that it just wasn't on any streaming service. I kept waiting and waiting - and eventually I got sick of waiting and went and found it at the library. As can happen with DVDs, it did have issues and skip a bit (the scene right before intermission, where they're talking about how his time as a driver is coming to an end; the scene right after intermission, where he's getting 'locked up' - and in the next scene I see, he shows up again, so no idea what, if anything, happened there), but otherwise, no issues in that regard.

Me & Tigmanshu Dhulia have sort of differing opinions when it comes to the movies he's directed - while I have wanted to watch this on and the sequels (mostly simply because, well, there are sequels so I'd like to see where the story goes; also, Jimmy Shergill), I really did not like Raat Akeli Hai at all, and I've tried to get into Bullet Raja multiple times but keep failing (mostly because I know eventually we're going to see the deaths of both Shergill and Chunky Pandey). I do still want to see Charas at some point, maybe.

But, anyhow, this movie. Well, it is exactly as slow-paced as I expected it would be, and yet, it never really drags too much. I mean, it takes a minute to get going after introducing our 3 titular characters, but things do take up after that - and especially after the double cross eliminates a major rival.

Mahie Gill, whom I loved in Aagey Se Right (love that movie!), takes her turn as ... well, what essentially turns into her go as a woman who will do whatever it takes to get what she wants. Which, in this case, is the attentions of her husband on her (and not on his mistress) - there's some backstory referenced where it is implied that his lack of time with her is the direct result of her cheating on him after marriage, but beyond that all we really learn is that apparently he's responsible for that lover's death (and what appears to be repeated psychotic breaks she has after the fact?).

But as things go on, she finds another lover - ironically, apparently, with the same name - and whilst she yearns for the attention of said husband, she's also not beyond spending time with this other guy (the 'gangster' in the film title). And, when he's madly in love with her, she makes her move. It isn't clear if this was her plan from the start, or if it just arises from the given circumstances, but she's able to twist things as necessary.

Of course, he's equally adept at things and throws in a few wrinkles of his own - wrinkles that see the demise of the silent-ish (and yet, cool) right arm man (in front of his daughter, no less!), an ambush that leads to a key character getting paralyzed at the end, and, when all is said and done, the death of this gangster - who has not only over-estimated his own importance in the story, but also has missed the multiple clues about how 'Biwi' has no desire in giving up what she has.

Deepal Shaw's character talks A LOT when you are first introduced to her, but she eventually becomes a ... well, I don't want to say fun, because no character in this movie is really 'fun' ... calming presence, if you will. She seems clearly taken by the newcomer at the beginning, but as things fall not in her way, she seems to return to her life before him. The death of her father, though, seems to stunt her at the end - I wonder if we'll see more of her in the sequel.

The ending does make me wonder if, while it was not planned this way (I don't think, at least), 'Biwi' will end up taking this opportunity and running with it, Dasvi style, and if their relationship will completely invert from him being in charge to her being in charge, or if maybe there is still hope for things to be fixed between them.

I don't think any of our characters are inherently likable - though sitting here now, 13 years later, I think in general people have pretty favorable views of Jimmy Shergill and Randeep Hooda (and I've already stated that I do like Mahie Gill), so it's a bit harder right now to just think "what horrible people" - but the story also does a good job of making it clear that while these folks are our protagonists (and, simultaneously, antagonists), we're more just along for the journey and not really here to be their friends. Not necessarily outright, but even just by their actions that we are privy to - you tolerate them for the story, for the tension, for the tragic ending that you know will be coming in this type of story. An ending that, while tragic, is less of the "oh no, I can't believe you killed of this character!" tragic and more of the "greed is a tragedy, and death is a tragedy" tragic.

I enjoyed this. Part 2, tomorrow, maybe.

#GMMM does movies #GMMM does Bollywood #movies #movieblr

[bellevvalencia]

Half-full

I’ve heard from a lot of people that jokes are half-meant, but it wasn’t something that I believed strongly to be true.

In a perfect world, people would say what they mean and they would mean what they say, but that’s belittling the reality of how every person has something that went on or that is going on in multiple periods and at different speeds. Ergo, a lot of the times, words will fail. People will take back what they said and they will say again what they took back. And they may add the word "joke" at the end of sentences to make light of a conversation that they weren’t ready to have, and they may add the word "joke" at the end of sentences to get an uncertain point across, not having thought about it thoroughly, or at all.

In short, when conversations begin to be a multiple bounce of jokes, they can be a number of things but serious.

The rest is up to you.

I mean, you know the right thing to do.

You know what to say to a client when shit hits the fan, but you joke that you want to tell her she’s just being stupid. You know it’s childish to say that in corporate but you joke it anyway because the situation is hopelessly funny.

You know that your seat mate is having a long day because his face was glued to his screen and his headphones was blasting Drake for four straight hours, but you tap his shoulder to joke that you hate him for ignoring you. You know you can never hate a person as kind, but you joke it anyway because it’s awkward and you’re the only two people left at the table.

You know that you can’t wait for anyone but you joke that nobody will ever love him the way you do. You know love is patience and love is kindness, but you joke it anyway because you don’t want the feeling to end just yet.

You know that your heart is banging on your chest and is struggling to break free, but you joke that you don’t give a fuck about them. You know it takes two to tango, you know you should probably say something, and you know the thought will keep you up at night and screw you over and over again, but you joke it anyway because letting it go is easier than the work that comes with fixing it.

A joke is an excuse to cover up our asses, so if you put it that way, I’d agree more if somebody said that jokes are lies rather than truths. Jokes aren’t supposed to be true. And people don’t mean them for many reasons. You can’t lose the job. You can’t bear awkward settings. You can’t let a feeling go. You can’t commit to uncertainty. You can’t ever be ready.

The joke could be consciously or subconsciously told and it could be true or false in multiple spectrums, but at the end of the day, nobody would pay the full price for something that is half-meant. Nobody should.

And even if it was half-meant, what does it matter?

I laugh as I process these thoughts in my head because I know that, now, my words are failing. Clearly, it matters to me. I have all these notions of jokes having more elements of lies in them and I say all these sentiments about how nobody should and nobody would, but I completely would. I try to appear as a realist, but in truth, when my desire gets strong, I become the strongest optimist alive. I will believe in the glass that is half-full but I will say that it is just a glass of water to squash the expectations in the pit of my stomach. I will believe so badly that it could last and quench my thirst but I will say that it could quench what it only could, that it was what it was.

So when I humor myself with all my jokes, just like when I tell my boss or my dad I don’t have what it takes to do it, or when I say I don’t care, or when I admit it’s not a bad idea, or when I still consider the odds even though all signs are telling me not to, or when I take an alternative and longer route just to see if fate works in mysterious ways, or when I use that stupid pathetic fucking audio on TikTok that would make someone come back, there is always a part of me that feels conflicted because while I know that logically, they cannot be true, I still want to hope that they could be. Maybe someday, maybe in time. Maybe if I try hard enough or if I speak long enough or if I think deep enough or if I act cool enough or if I pray earnestly enough. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

God, yes, I cling to the maybe of the half-meant joke because I’m a little bit challenged and I need to try.

I am so much and I am a lot—I’m aware of that by now. I will feel it and I will talk about it and I will write about it because it has to find its way out of me. I will be angry and I will be sad and I will cry in my mother’s arms, drunk and screaming “Why me?” on a random Thursday night. I will compartmentalize and I will work long hours and I will go out with my friends and family who surprisingly aren’t tired of me yet. I will write this piece on a Saturday morning straight of the club, and I will come home to my parents who will laugh with me over breakfast when I tell them what I said and did. I will forgive and I will forget.

And then, because I am so much and I am a lot, in one slow month, I will be okay again.

Nobody should pay the full price for something that is half-meant. But the world is not perfect, we all have something different going on, and above everything, we need to be willing to try.

So if you do, take the glass and fill it to the brim. Trust that you will be all the better for it.

#im ok i swear

[dilemmaontwolegs]

mechanic!neighbor!Steve helps you when your car breaks down and is either fluffy or smutty but definetely flirting!!!

Damn, another fictional man I didn't know I needed in my life until now. Well he might make a reappearance one day 🥵

The Mechanic Next Door || Steve Rogers

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, fingering, Steve’s muscles 🤤 WC: 2588

|| Main Masterlist || Steve's Masterlist ||

“Today is not going to be that day.” You grumbled as your fingers pinched the key and turned it, only hearing the incessant ticking of it attempting to splutter to life and subsequently failing. “Come on baby, don’t do this to me.”

Your poor car had been on its last legs for the better part of the year and it seemed it was going to be that day, the day she died. You hung your head as you gave up trying, pulling the handbrake and taking the key out. You didn’t even notice the shadow crossing your window until a fist of greasy knuckles tapped against the window. A sharp scream escaped your lungs before you could stop it but the neighbourhood wasn’t exactly the safest and the man outside was a solid wall of ripped muscle.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you.” He said loud enough for you to hear through the glass as he stepped back with his hands up, a rag hanging from his shoulder and his bare chest glistening with sweat. “I just moved in across the street, I heard your car flooding.”

You unlocked the car door and stepped out, his eyes quickly glancing at the length of your leg as you did and you leant against the door after closing it. “Welcome to the neighbourhood.”

“Thanks,” he smiled as he pulled the rag off his shoulder and wiped his hands before holding one out, “I’m Steve.”

“Y/n.” You felt your pulse spike as your hands touched, the feel of the calluses on his palms tickling you. “You said something about flooding? I haven’t driven it through water.”

His lips tipped up and his hair mussed about his head as he shook it. “It’s when too much fuel gets in your engine. I see it all the time, I could fix it now if you want?”

You chewed your lip as you bounced the keys against your leg nervously. “Does it cost a lot? It’s just that this week has really not gone to plan. First my shower broke and now this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. “It’s just one neighbour helping another.”

As much as you were grateful for his kind offer, you weren’t one to take handouts so you shook your head. “The least I can do is make you dinner, and your wife?”

“I don’t have a wife.” He said as his eyes drifted over you once again and you could feel your core tightening under the appreciative gaze.

“Even better.” You grinned and held the keys up. “I guess you’ll need these.”

He stepped closer and his broad chest filled your vision, the scent of oil and man filling your lungs as you breathed in deeply. One hand took the keys from your fingers as the other brushed your hip and your pussy throbbed with the need to be touched. Disappointment flooded you as you heard the click of the car door and realised his hand wasn’t reaching for you but the handle.

“Sorry.” You muttered as your neck burned with embarrassment and you shuffled to the side. “I’ll get out of your way.”

His muscles bulged as he opened the door with more flourish than necessary but it had the desired effect as your lips parted with a sigh and his eyes noticed it all. Resting his elbow across the roof of your car, he toyed with your keys and smirked. “I kinda liked you right where you were.”

“I can’t make you dinner if you can’t fix my car.” You reminded him as your eyes followed a bead of sweat that slowly rolled down his chest, teasing you as it made its way through the dips in his six pack until it was absorbed by the cotton waistband of his Calvin Kleins that peeked out from beneath his shorts.

“Maybe I should keep you with me, you’re one hell of a motivator.” He teased before getting into your car, his huge mass looking even bigger in the tiny hatchback.

“I’m usually all for procrastinating but I made a promise to cook a handsome stranger dinner before I remembered I haven’t gone grocery shopping.” You admitted, his laugh filling the small car before he turned the key and it spluttered to life. “Seriously! How the fuc-hell did you do that?”

You stepped out of the way so he could get out and his face passed by within kissing distance as he rose to his full height. “Trade secret, and, if I tell you I wouldn’t be able to show up and save the day.”

“Wow,” you laughed alone with him, “what a hero.”

“I do my best.” He chuckled. “When you start it, press your gas pedal to the floor and just keep that key turned forward. Easy.”

“You really got the better end of the deal.” You laughed but you knew if you had called for a mobile mechanic or a tow truck it would have easily cost $100+, so you got off lightly too. “I hope you like pizza and a juice box.”

“I’ll have anything as long as it's with you.” He said as he took your hand and placed the keys back in them. “What time do you want me?”

“Now.” You admitted before you mentally slapped yourself. Something about this man had unlocked a feral need within you and you were not usually this bold. “I mean 7pm?”

“If I didn’t have a shift at work I would hold you to that one, gorgeous.” He purred quietly in your ear as if there were nosy neighbours listening in. “I’ll see you at 7.”

You couldn’t breath until he was almost halfway across the road and heading into the garage that was open, a sexy mustang parked inside with its hood up. You watched as he tossed the rag aside and bent over the engine, still able to see the defined lines of his back muscles from across the street. His head turned your way and you caught the wink he threw when he saw you were still eyeing him up, another flush of heat rising up your neck before you jumped into your car and headed to the supermarket.

Your doorbell rang at 7 on the dot and you turned the oven off, checking your dress was sitting just right before you opened the door. Your lips pouted as you saw he was wearing a shirt but the grey cotton did nothing to disguise the muscles just below the surface.

“I got you these,” he said as he held up a bunch of flowers, “I don’t know what they are. They were from the old man’s place over there.”

You looked where he pointed and stifled a laugh as you took the flowers and hid them behind the door with a grin. “Mr Gerard might just shoot you if he catches you doing that.”

He blinded you with a wide grin in return and stepped over the threshold. “It made you smile so I’d say it’s worth the risk.”

He looked around your modest home as you led him to the kitchen and filled a vase with water for the bouquet, already enjoying the way it brightened up your otherwise dull kitchen.

“Do you want something to drink?” You offered as you opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles from the chiller. “I wasn’t sure what you liked but I totally assumed beer, was that bad of me?”

“Horrible.” He confirmed as he took the IPA with a smirk, twisting the top off with ease before trading with you. “I should probably let you know now, I’m vegan.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at the oven, the inside light showing the roast that had been cooked perfectly, Steve’s laugh breaking through the serious facade he had tried to compose. Your hand pressed to his pec to give him a small push that barely moved him, and you felt just how hard the muscle was as your hand lingered on his chest. “You were so nice this morning, what happened to that guy?”

“He spent all day thinking about the beautiful lady he was seeing tonight and it left him very, very frustrated.” One hand covered yours and the other caught your waist pulling you closer. “All. Day.”

“It made the day drag out.” You commiserated as you tipped your head back to connect with his grey/blue eyes. “I thought it would never end."

His face was so close you could see your wide eyes reflecting in his and your lips parted as your heart began to race in anticipation. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips connected with yours, his kiss softer than you had imagined it would be but it was just a test. Your hands moved up his chest to drape around his neck and his own pulled you flush against his body as his tongue caressed yours.

“I hope you haven't met all the neighbours like this.” You panted as you pulled away breathless and he chuckled as his thumbs drew circles over your hips.

“Only the pretty ones.” He murmured as he kissed the corner of your mouth before seeing the look of concern on your face and he chuckled. “Of which there is only one.”

His hands gripped your hips tighter and his arms bulged as he lifted you onto the benchtop and nudged your legs aside. “Is this alright?”

“Mhmm…” You nodded as you felt a bulge of a very different muscle straining against his jeans, your pussy wet at the thought. “God yes.”

Your moan was more than enough to drive him wild and his hands brushed up your tight, bunching up the hem of your dress as his eyes drank in the sight of your bare skin. Your hands were eager for the same, pulling at his shirt until he raised his arms and you could pull it over his head, dropping it to the floor so your hands were free to roam his body. His abs contracted with every breath and your nails lightly grazed them, sending a shudder up his body before he crushed his lips against yours. His fingers brushed over the lace of your panties and you trembled as his slow teasing left you needing more.

“Steve…please…” You begged as your head tipped back and your hips pushed forward.

“Tell me what you need, gorgeous.” He ordered as he pulled his hand away the more you tried to chase it.

“Your fingers, inside me.” He bit his bottom lip with a moan as your palm rubbed over his jeans and felt his cock rock hard needing freedom.

Your fingers worked to unbutton his jeans while his fingers brushed your panties aside and felt just how ready you were for him. He eased two fingers in and pressed the ball of his palm to your clit, rolling his wrists and earning a moan as you rode his fingers.

“Christ.” He groaned as he felt your liquid escaping around his fingers and watched it run down his hand. “Look at that, so fucking beautiful.”

His words were lost with a moan as you pushed his jeans over his hips and found him commando, his huge cock springing free and smacking him on the stomach. You weren’t sure you were going to be able to take him as you watched a bead of precum pool at the tip and roll down his veiny length but you would certainly try.

“Do you have a condom?” You asked as you began to stroke him, gripping him tight and pumping the length of him in time to his hand pleasuring you.

“You don't?” He asked curiously since most people had at least one lying around somewhere.

“I do, but not ones that would fit you.” You admitted and watched the proud smile grow on his face.

He pulled his hand away and you missed the feel of him instantly as he bent down to his jeans and grabbed a packet from his pocket. “I wasn’t being presumptuous, just prepared.”

“Well, I’m glad you were.”

If you thought you were frustrated all day you couldn’t imagine how bad it would have been to get this far and then have to stop. Thankfully, he had thought ahead and he tore the packet open before rolling the sheath down his cock. You widened your legs as much as you could as he stepped back between them and brushed his head up and down your slit, spreading your natural lubricant before he began to ease himself into you.

“Oh, god.” You moaned as just his tip broke through and you could already feel your cunt stretching around him.

Steve’s eyes fluttered shut as he fought against the urge to bury himself inside you in one thrust but he could feel how tight you were and didn’t want to hurt you. Instead he slowly rocked his hips, a little more of him inching inside with each thrust, your sweet moans filling his ears as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and dug your nails into his back.

Steve’s eyes fluttered shut as he fought against the urge to bury himself inside you in one thrust but he could feel how tight you were and didn’t want to hurt you. Instead, he slowly rocked his hips, a little more of him inching inside with each thrust and your sweet moans filled his ears as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and dug your nails into his back. Your lips pressed to his neck as you buried your face against him and let your body accustom to his size, the bump against your cervix an unfamiliar feeling of pleasurable pain.

“You’re taking me so well, gorgeous.” He praised as he dragged you right to the edge of the bench and you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him deeper inside you.

His deep moan was hoarse as you threatened to draw blood the way your nails were raking his back but it spurred him on, hips thrusting faster, his pubic bone hitting your clit as the sound of your bodies slapping filled the kitchen as loud as your whimpers. Your cries were growing as your orgasm loomed over you and you didn’t want the entire neighbourhood to hear you so you latched onto the closest thing, your teeth capturing the thick muscle stretching across his neck and shoulder between them.

“Holy shit.” Steve moaned as he felt your scream being muffled by his skin and your core clenched tight around him. “You feel so fucking amazing.”

“Oh, Steve, I’m, I’m gonna-” Your legs began to tremble and your jaw fell slack as your orgasm crashed over you, your pussy clamping down until he couldn’t move.

“Fuck.” He shuddered as he spilled himself into the condom, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his release and he sagged in your arms, head on your shoulder.

“That was amazing.” You sighed as small pulsing still radiated through your body and he hummed an agreement as he pulled out and you pointed to the waste bin in the corner.

“We should clean up before dinner.” He chuckled and you bit your lip nervously.

“I still haven’t had the shower fixed, it's only running cold.”

“How about we make this a takeaway and shoot over to mine?” He offered. “Have a hot shower, nice dinner, and tomorrow I’ll see if I can fix your shower.”

“Deal.” You slipped off the counter and rose to your tip toes so you could kiss him. “You know this’ll mean I’ll owe you dinner tomorrow night too.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” He smirked as he pulled his jeans up. “I really like the entree.”

You laughed as his hands cupped your cheeks and he pulled you into another heated kiss that left you wanting him all over again. “Just wait until you get your dessert.”

#steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x poc!reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #marvel fanfic

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

#purity culture #sex talk #christianity #sex and relationships #sex and religion #mylife #answered asks #aspec #cw sex

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Green is My Favorite Color Ch. 19

Pairings: Dean x Fem!OFC

Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence. Purgatory!Dean. Angst. Sadness.

Word Count: 4,449

Series Summary: Dean has been her hero from childhood, can she ever get him to be more?

|| Series Masterlist ||

Chapter Summary: Dean, Julie and Benny continue searching for the portal home. Though Julie begins to question Dean's desire to leave Purgatory behind.

A/N:  The nineteenth chapter in a longer series. As I’m writing, the story is stretching out a little and I’m thinking it’s going to be at least 20 chapters. Sorry! 😬 It’s what I’ll call cannon adjacent. It will follow the general storylines through the seasons, but I’m creating my own offshoots. 😊

A/N 2: Here it is, the penultimate chapter. 😊

The beautiful divider at the end was created by @talesmaniac89. 💗

Approximately 3 or 4 months later

Julie felt like flames were licking across her skin as the sharp stone blade sliced through her flesh. The shock robbed her of her breath and all that came out was a loud gasp as the ghoul raised his weapon to slash her again.

Before he could though, Dean leapt forward and stabbed his weapon through the middle of the ghoul's face with a sickening squelch. He ripped it out and sliced off the monster's head before it's body could hit the ground.

Dean dropped to his knee beside Julie.

"Jules." He said, his voice laced with worry. Julie shook her head.

"I'm fine, Dean. Don't worry about it." She looked frantically around them for the next attacking monster. "We've gotta get out of here."

But Dean landed a heavy hand on her right shoulder to keep her sitting before he started probing at the wound that ran down from her left shoulder to the base of her collarbone. It had been an attempt to sever her head from her body, but she'd dodged it in time.

Benny came up to stand behind Julie and fixed Dean with a look of warning. "She's right, Dean. We can't stay here, I can smell more of those filthy grave diggers nearby, we gotta keep movin'."

Dean nodded, his expression stoic as he pulled Julie to her feet. The three of them moved away as swiftly as possible, continuing to run and fight until the sun went down.

Finally they came to a narrow stream that led to a very small pond. Dean pulled them all up short when he saw it.

"We're gonna stop here for a while. I gotta look at Julie's shoulder." He said to Benny. "Need to try and clean it out."

Benny nodded and immediately sought out higher ground about two hundred yards upstream, where he could keep a better lookout for approaching monsters.

Dean helped Julie sit on the ground and then kneeled beside her. He ripped off part of his own filthy shirt and tried to wash it out a little in the water before he brought it back, dripping wet and cold.

He took her arm out of the sleeve of her jacket and then ripped her cotton t-shirt at the neck so he could get to the angry red gash. It had started to scab over and pieces of her shirt stuck painfully to the oozing wound.

When Dean brought the wet cloth up to start cleaning, Julie shivered at the cold water dripping onto her skin, but otherwise let Dean tend to her, feeling her eyelids drooping. The loss of blood was making her sleepy and she just needed rest.

As Dean finished cleaning the gash he growled, annoyed at the lack of anything clean to cover it with. Julie just shook her head and put her arm back into her jacket sleeve.

"Don't worry about it. It's not too deep. It will heal fine, I'm sure."

Dean was less sure and held on to his scowl. Julie looked up at him, and his fierce countenance and set jaw flared up the ever present heat in her loins, and she wanted him desperately. She saw the answering glow of feral desire shift Dean's features and she smiled softly.

In their continued months in purgatory they'd found a half dozen more opportunities to spend some time alone. Without fail, every time, they'd immediately fallen on each other, ravenous and desperate, never able to push their bodies close enough together.

Even when they were joined as one, they were constantly straining to be closer, tighter, as though they could absorb one another into their skin. It was primal, and animalistic and beautiful all at the same time and Julie relished every moment.

But now she reached up and trailed her fingers over Dean's scruffy cheek, letting her dirty nails rasp against it.

"Do you mind...would you just, hold me?"

Dean swallowed hard and she watched him visibly reign in his aching need for her. He nodded and sat back on the damp ground, pulling her into his lap.

She settled into him and as she breathed in his leather jacket, and the metallic scent of dirt and blood that covered him, she wondered if she would be okay with just being held. Her body was tired and trying to heal, but her hormones were still screaming at her to ride this man to release.

She pushed down the feelings; her soul wanted something quiet with Dean, something peaceful and calm that reminded her of home instead of this place that was all primal life and quick deaths.

She tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her arms around him. Dean took deep breaths in through his nose until eventually she felt some of the tension leave his muscles. He took out her ponytail and began to comb his fingers through her hair, working through the snarls.

At first the snags made her hiss, but eventually he got through them and his actions became soothing. It felt good to have her hair down and untangled. When Dean used his strong fingers and blunt nails to give her sore scalp a massage, she couldn't help the satisfied groan that left her lips.

Underneath her, she could feel what the sound did to Dean, as he hardened against her thigh. He shifted her away from his erection and kissed the top of her head.

"Sorry, kid. I'm trying" His voice was equal parts amused and pained and Julie pulled back to smile at him.

"I know. I appreciate it."

He leaned down and placed a gentle, featherlight kiss on her lips and the move brought tears to her eyes; it reminded her so much of home.

When Dean pulled back, he frowned at her tears. "Sweetheart?"

Julie shook her head, trying to smile. Finally she looked down at her lap and asked the question that was always at the forefront of her mind.

"Dean, are we ever going to get home?"

Dean tipped her chin up with his knuckle, forcing her to look at him.

"Of course we are. Any day now, we're going to see that seam open up and we're all gonna stroll through and get out of here."

Dean kissed the tip of her nose and then looked around him. If Julie didn't know better she would have sworn Dean's expression was wistful.

He looked back down at her. "You gotta have faith, Jules." He sighed heavily again. "One day soon, we'll be leaving this all behind."

Julie frowned slightly. She'd been wondering something for a while now, but she had pushed it aside, sure she must be imagining things. But now, she felt like she had to ask.

"You do want to go home, right?"

"Of course I do!" Dean answered, just a little too quickly.

"Do you..." Julie hesitated. "Do you like it here?"

As she spoke Julie was thinking of how well Dean had adapted to this place, how incredible and powerful he was when he fought, as though he was a warrior who had been specially created for the endless combat of Purgatory.

Dean scoffed at her question. "No, I don't like it here."

"But...?" Julie heard the caveat at the end of his sentence.

"But nothing," Dean assured her, "I wanna get you home and safe."

Julie nodded. "You wanna get me home, but if it was just you, you'd want to stay."

Dean sat up a little and pulled back from her. "You're being ridiculous, Jules; you're putting words in my mouth."

Julie shook her head. "I'm not being ridiculous. I know you, Dean Winchester. I've seen you here, how well you fight, how naturally you fit into this place. You like it here." Her voice was incredulous.

Dean was biting into his bottom lip, like he was trying to hold something back. Finally he shook his head.

"Look, I don't like it here, I just...I don't know how to explain it." He paused for a moment and Julie waited, desperate to understand what he was saying.

"I've...my whole life I've been hunting, fighting, trying to save people, trying to get to them before it's too late. And mostly I fail at it, people die all the time simply because I fail." His voice was heavy with guilt and Julie felt her heart ache for him.

He shook his head and continued. "Everything we do as hunters is layered in moral quandaries. If I can't save them both, then who's life do I choose? Does this monster deserve to die? How do I stop myself from becoming the monster? Can I ask this person for help when I know I'm putting them in danger?"

He waved his arm outward to indicate their surroundings. "But here...here none of that exists. It's...I don't know, it feels pure. There's no gray, no moral dilemmas, no soul crushing decisions to make. It's just fight, kill, survive. And I...it's..."

Julie nodded. "It's easier to just kill without consequences."

Dean swung his head back towards her and she briefly saw just how deeply she'd wounded him with her words before he hid the pain behind a mask of stoicism.

"Yeah, well, always have been a hell of a killer, haven't I?" He said with a sarcastic smile as he shifted her off his lap and stood up.

Julie felt awful; she hadn't meant it the way it had come out. She was just trying to tell him that she understood, that she got the appeal of not having to think about it, not having to feel the enormous guilt and responsibility that he always carried around with him.

She couldn't say she wasn't shocked and a little bothered that he seemed to enjoy purgatory so much when for her, every hour there felt like it was pulling away another tiny piece of her soul.

But she wanted him to know that she could accept what he was saying. He'd led a very different life to her and she understood how this place could be a kind of reprieve.

But she never got the chance to say any of that. Dean pulled her to her feet and spoke before she could try to explain herself.

"How's your shoulder? Cause we should move on."

She waved a hand at it. "It's fine. Dean - "

"Okay good, then let's go."

He moved away from her. "Dean!" She called after him and he turned around to face her.

"Look, Jules, I don't want to talk about this anymore, okay. We're gonna get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. That's all that matters."

Julie opened her mouth to argue, but they both caught Benny's signal calling them over. He must have seen something coming.

So, Dean took off at a sprint towards him and she had no other choice but to follow.

***

For days after, Julie tried to explain to Dean what she'd really meant, although her fumbled explanations never came out how she intended since they always seemed to be interrupted by attacking monsters.

After her fourth or fifth attempt to explain herself, Dean cut into her rambling and said he said that it was fine, that he understood what she'd meant. But mostly he just shrugged off the conversation, and Julie was pretty sure he was just tired of discussing it.

Then one morning, just after defeating a pack of wolves, they stepped through some dense foliage and Benny stopped dead in his tracks.

Dean and Julie followed his gaze, preparing for another attack, but what they saw instead made Julie gasp and Dean curse.

Far away, at the top of a steep ridge was a small, glowing, blue spot, like a rip in the fabric of the air. As they watched, the hole grew larger, opening up, showing itself to be an entrance; it was the doorway home.

"Holy Shit." Dean cursed again beneath his breath and the wide smile that spread across his face told Julie that he was indeed very happy to finally have a way home.

Dean turned to Benny and both men shared a laugh before Dean scooped Julie up and spun her around.

"We found it, Jules! What did I tell you?"

She laughed and kissed him. She was about to shout out her happiness when it suddenly seemed like a shower of meteors was landing all around them.

A half dozen leviathans had smashed into the ground and then oozed their way into existence, seemingly born from the very dirt of Purgatory.

Without wasting a breath, the three of them began the fight, and they fought hard.

Benny was the first to dispatch one of the big-mouthed monsters, at which point he and Dean teamed up against the three that were left; the three that separated them from Julie and the pair attacking her.

Julie's biggest strength was that she was fast and agile, so she'd been bobbing and weaving around the much bigger monsters, leading them quite far away from Dean and Benny. They had managed to back her into a rock wall, and she pressed back against it as she ducked their blows.

The two leviathans had created a kind of triangle with her and she could sense they were going to come in for a joint attack. She decided to take out the one on her right since it looked like the weaker of the two. If she could take off it's head quickly, maybe she could feint out of the way of the one coming at her from the left.

She lunged forward, managing to catch the first leviathan off guard with the quick move. She sliced clean through it's neck, black goo spraying across her torso.

She spun around to face the second one, and in that split second she knew she wouldn't be able to move fast enough to get away. The leviathan was bringing down its axe toward her, and though she scrambled backwards, she knew the weapon would reach her.

But as she backed up, she saw Dean run between her and the leviathan and slice off the monster's head. She watched the head roll away and then saw Dean stumble back and fall to the ground. It took her a moment to understand why Dean had fallen as well.

Then she saw it. The thick stone axe that the leviathan had used was still protruding from Dean's left side as though he was a log being split in two.

Julie screamed and skidded to her knees beside him just as Benny reached them.

"Dean?" Julie questioned, as she ran her fingers across his brow and down his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and they were wracked with pain.

Benny gently pushed Julie out of the way so he could look at the injury. She scuttled over to Dean's right side and took his big hand in hers.

Benny scowled deeply. "I'd say we should leave this in, but it's so big and in the way, I'm afraid it's gonna end up getting pushed in deeper or moving around inside your guts."

He shook his head and caught Dean's gaze. "What do you reckon, Chief?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, it's gotta come out, it'll do more damage if it falls out later, or if I fall onto it."

He took in a deep, unsteady breath. "Pull it out, man. We've gotta get to the seam before it closes or something. I can get fixed at home."

But Julie was shaking her head. She was remembering the intense pressure, heat and force of the portal they'd gone through to get into Purgatory, she couldn't imagine getting out was going to be much more pleasant.

"No, Dean. We can't go through right now, it was painful and exhausting when we were in great shape, who knows what will happen to you when you're like this!"

Before Dean could argue, Benny interrupted them, looking at Julie. "None of that'll matter if we don't get away from here soon. Monsters are gonna be drawn here by all this blood. Let's just get him well enough to move, and then decide what we're gonna do when we get up there." He looked up at the portal still shimmering in the distance.

Julie nodded and Benny cut away the bottom half of his pant leg and then split it, so that it was one, long, wide piece of cloth. He passed it to Julie. "If you can do anything to make that cleaner, Cher, do it."

Without many other options, Julie shook out the material and tried to wipe away the worst of the mud.

Benny looked down at Dean, his face solemn. "I'm sorry, my friend." He said just before he pulled the stone weapon out of Dean's side.

Dean let out a short yell through clenched teeth, before he pushed air in and out of his nose in an attempt to control the pain.

Julie felt tears coursing down her cheeks as she saw Dean's ashen face, and then felt bile rise as she watched the blood bubble up through his and Benny's hands.

Benny took the cloth from her and tried to wrap it around Dean's waist as tightly as possible to keep the wound closed and halt the blood loss. But it obviously wasn't working very well, since the cloth was soon soaked through with Dean's blood.

"God dammit!" Benny cursed quietly as the blood continued to flow.

Dean shook his head and grabbed onto Benny's arm. "Doesn't matter, we gotta move. Help me up."

Benny put his hands under Dean's armpits and lifted him to standing. Julie popped up beside them, grabbing up her weapon and Dean's and throwing the leviathan's axe as far into the woods as she could.

Taking painful, faltering steps, Dean began moving forward, towards the seam. It was bigger than ever, just waiting for them. She still didn't know how he was going to get through, but Benny was right, that was a problem for later. Right now, it was everything Dean could do to put one foot in front of the other.

As they reached the bottom of the ridge and started to try and climb, Dean's weakened muscles and extreme loss of blood kept bringing him to his knees. Benny was on one side trying to heft him up the hill and Julie soon took up the other side, almost buckling under Dean's weight.

But it was still too much for Dean. Finally, less than a quarter of the way up, Dean fell, letting go of both Benny and Julie and simply laying on his back in the dirt.

His breathing was short and labored. All his freckles stood out in dark relief against his ghostly pale skin and the entire left side of his shirt was soaked almost black with his blood.

Julie kneeled down beside him, completely at a loss for how to help him. She ran her fingers through his hair and his green eyes fluttered open, dull with pain and weakness. He smiled at her, but turned to look at Benny who crouched down beside him.

"Promise me you'll get her home."

Benny nodded, but Julie shook her head. "You stop that right now, Dean Winchester. Do you understand me? We're both going home. The portal is so close...we're so close, Dean."

But she could tell he wasn't listening to her words. He was looking up at her with a sad smile and that smile terrified her.

His voice was soft when he spoke, raspy and breathy. "I need you to know, Jules, you were always the brightest part of my life, you were like..." His words trailed away, and his eyes closed for a moment.

When he opened them again tears shone in them. "You were always my sunshine, my bright spot, the beautiful thing I never deserved."

Julie was shaking her head, denying his words, denying his goodbye.

Dean tried to lift his hand toward her, but couldn't manage it. His face spasmed in pain and he closed his eyes.

"Be happy, kid. Be home, be happy."

His eyes shot open suddenly and he looked at her intently. "I did want to go home with you Jules. I don't want to stay here and be a killer. I want to go home with you...make a home with you..."

His voice trailed off and Julie shook him. "Then do it! Don't you die here, Dean, don't..."

Dean's eyes stayed closed and his breathing slowed.

Julie was sobbing and Benny moved away, digging his big fingers into his eyes.

Julie grabbed on to either side of Dean's face and spoke through her tears, desperately trying to reach him as his life's blood soaked into the dirt below him.

"Dean, listen to me! You can't go!"

She laid her cheek against his chest. "You promised." She whispered.

"You promised you'd never leave me again. Dean, you promised." She said, louder. She felt her chest constricting, trapping her breath, and choking her throat.

"You promised." She whispered into his chest again.

Suddenly Julie felt Dean's hand move into her hair. She gasped and sat up, looking into his face. He was so pale, with dark bruises under his eyes and his lips were blue.

But his eyes were open and he nodded at her. "Okay, kid. Okay." And he began to shift slightly beneath her, attempting to sit up. Pain washed over his features, and he pulled in gasping breaths.

Benny rushed back over to him and pulled him up. Julie was completely aghast, she'd been sure he was seconds from death, but here he was, standing up, refusing to quit, pushing on, refusing to break his promise.

Julie had never loved him more that she did in that moment. And she'd never been more terrified of losing him.

As they struggled on, making only a tiny amount of progress up the steep hill, they suddenly heard rustling coming from the trees to their right and Julie wanted to scream. They were in no position to fight right now.

But her scream of rage turned to a shout of shock and joy as Cas and Sam ran forward from the trees.

At the sight of his brother and his best friend moving toward them, Dean gave out a cry of surprised relief and fell again to his knees.

Sam skidded to a halt in front of them and Julie threw her arms around his neck.

"What are you doing here?" She blubbered into his wide chest.

Without waiting for him to answer, she turned to Cas. "He's wounded." She said, pointing at Dean, but she needn't have bothered since the angel was already laying his hand over Dean's bloody side. But though the blue light of his grace shone beneath his hands, the wound didn't heal.

The angel shook his head. "My healing powers don't seem to work in this place."

He turned to Benny and frowned before addressing Julie. "But I've already smote a few monsters, so I can take down this vampire for you."

"Vampire?" Sam asked, moving toward Benny, his face angry.

Julie jumped between Sam and Benny, feeling like a tiny garden gnome between the two giants, but she placed a hand on each of their chests.

"Good god, you idiots. We're all friends here, okay?" She shook her head. "Sam, we're alive because of Benny, so enough. Benny, lower your weapon, we've just been saved. This is Dean's brother Sam, and his best friend, Cas. He's an angel." She added as an afterthought.

She looked back at Cas and Sam. "Thank god you're here, we can discuss how exactly you managed that later. Right now we've got to get Dean home where Cas can heal him."

She turned toward the portal still so far above them. "But I'm worried about getting him up this hill and then really worried about how he's going to do going through that portal, it was so harsh coming here. And he's..."

Julie looked down at where Dean sat on the ground, still barely moving, still clearly in immense pain. "He's in really bad shape."

All the men nodded, but Cas stepped forward and leaned down, lifting Dean up in his arms like he weighed nothing at all.

"We came here by a different method. After much, much research and intimidation, we found a reaper who knew about a back door into Purgatory. He showed us the spot and as long as I was holding onto Sam's hand, I could take him through it. So, I feel sure I can carry Dean out. The entrance wasn't too far from here. If we all go together, we should be able to handle any monsters we encounter."

He looked at Benny. "Are you coming, vampire?"

"Yes." Dean, Benny and Julie said together.

Sam was still scowling. "We're just gonna let a monster out of Purgatory?"

"Yes." Julie and Dean answered. Dean's weak voice seemed to make Sam realize that now wasn't the time to argue.

So, the odd band of travelers set off together and Julie looked back with some trepidation as they abandoned the portal they'd searched for for so long. It was shrinking back to nothing as they walked away and she sent up a plea that they could get back out through this entrance that Sam and Cas had found.

Within a blessedly short amount of time they came to a stand of trees. Cas nodded toward it. "That's it. I'm not sure how this will work. I think I can get all the humans out if you all hold on to me. I'm not sure about the vampire."

Julie stepped forward and pulled out her bone machete hoping it would be the last time she'd ever have to use it. "We already have that part covered."

She looked at Benny. "Obviously Dean can't do it, so I'm going to have to. Trust me?"

Benny nodded with a smile. "Completely, little mama."

Julie cut into her arm and Benny cut into his. They grasped each other's arm and Julie said the incantation aloud, watching as the vampire's soul turned to red smoke and settled into her arm, with a painful red glow.

Sam was bug eyed, and even Cas looked shocked.

"What the fu - " Sam began, but Julie waved away the question.

"Later. We've gotta get Dean home now!"

Sam nodded and they both moved into position on either side of Cas. They grabbed hold of his tan trench coat and walked between two trees and through the portal home.

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[danddymaro]

Replay | Leone Abbacchio x Reader

A/N: Please, this is NSFW if you don’t like it, don't read it.

Thoughts are in italics and quotations // ‘ Example,’

Flashback are all in just Italics // Example

- I hope it’s understandable. It drifts from present time to the past event and goes back and forth for a moment.

Abbacchio using his stand for, Well, dirty purposes. So, he might be a little perverse here // sorry

word count: 1474

Replay

His lustrous, golden eyes were fixed on the sight of the (h/c) haired young woman, entranced by the manner her fingers desperately rubbed over the sweet, little spot that was certain to set her off.  

"A...ah…" she tried to speak, instead, drifting off into a sultry moan as her other fingers slid down to her needy hole, giving it the attention it'd yearned for before then.

“ Filthy..." he breathed, " You filthy whore… '' he said in a deep, low rumble, his eyes almost unblinking as he continued to take in the sight of the woman as she lay in display.

Far, deep within the recesses of his mind, he wondered who was more depraved out of the two.

Was it the desperate, perverse fool whose cock twitched and throbbed at the sight of a mere replay, becoming only relieved when fisted by a hand that was covered by a used pair of panties.

Or, was it the yearning whore squirming above the bedsheets, unable to keep still and so drunk in pleasure that she could barely speak.

" Who are you thinking of?" Leone half-whispered, asking her, yet receiving no response but yet another moan, this time hushed and so powerful, her voice failed her.

A small, fragile squeak was the only thing that could escape the back of her throat and it let him know how high she'd gone as a result of the self-indulging performance.

"You're having the time of your life, " he said with the same husky tone, watching as (f/n) did not spare a movement, everything she did serving for her own carnal pleasure.

"- You're loving it," he breathed, and it was then that her pace quickened, her hips rising up with desperation to meet imaginary thrusts that he knew she tried to vividly imagine simply by the way her (e/c) colored eyes hid behind tightly shut lids.

And, again, he wondered just who she thought about, the huffing man wanting to know just who brought her to that peak.

" Fuck me," she muttered softly, quivering as literal tears welled up in her (e/c) colored eyes as she murmured the words, wishing that she could somehow breathe the fantasy out into real life with each hot huff she mustered.

" Please...please…" she begged, breathlessly speaking, repeating the words over and over, sounding almost as repetitive as a scratched disk as she tried to envision just how he’d take her. Desperately, she tried to imagine his touch, attempting to fall into the fantasy of her desires so well that she could forget everything else in the world.

- Slowly, his entire body as it rocked to hers, every thrust slow and dragged, yet deep, and filled with the purpose of reaching the tender spots her fingers couldn't dive into.

"I want… please…"  she dumbly rambled, a thick shine glossing her bottom lip as her tongue slid over the shaking plumpness.

" Leone…" (f/n) added sweetly, the two fingers that were tasked with making quick dives into her wetness, stopping as they were about to come out, instead, parting, stretching her little hole right before his intently trained, golden gems.

"Shit," he grunted, " Shit, " he repeated again before swallowing down hard.

The sudden bit of surprise he felt was then washed away by the heavy title wave of pleasure that drowned him, leaving him teetering on the edge of release.

With a strong thrust upwards, she threw her head back onto the pillow, turning her head to take a  bite out of the fluffy cushioning in order to muffle a particularly desperate cry onto it, all while Leone hissed, almost unable to live through the sight without becoming fully undone.

It was then that his ears picked up on a distant knock, as well as a voice he knew was his own,

"(F/n) ?"Abbacchio asked her, speaking from the other side of the closed door as he waited just outside her room.

As he kept his eyes on the replay, Leone could see the recollection that soon set on her face as she heard him speak,

" L-l-leone?" She asked shyly,  her breathy, little murmur barely sounding as she struggled to even say his name, and as he watched her, he felt a small twitch to his heart.

' … how can you look so sweet right now?' He wondered, his eyes watching her flustered face before it went back down to her glistening folds. ‘How can you look so  damn cute when your making such a mess?’ he silently teased.

Momentarily, her fingers' movements became lax and ghosting, and her face became pensive. She seemed to be struck by the same pleasure, yet contemplative of her next move, clearly having a battle of morals.

' What's taking you so long?' he asked her, the man outside the door sounding annoyed but not enough to press on more. 

Because, sometimes, he was too lenient on her, letting her get away with so much more than anyone else could. And  he wished he could be just a bit more assertive with her.

But, he was terribly softhearted when it came to the pretty, little woman.

He found it difficult to lift his voice at her and at times, he couldn't even look at her directly without melting and becoming an easy sucker, willed and bent in whichever way she wanted.

 "Eh…I...Um…Ah!" Her free hand flew to clamp over her mouth to muffle the last bit of her moan while the other moved faster, leaving her right at the peak. Relentless, her body drove her to push further, to finally give it it’s awaited release.

The very hand then dragged down, joining the other while it repeatedly dove into her wetness.

With the same enthusiasm, her fingers rubbed her little clit, almost reaching her high.

"J..Just hearing him…" she murmured. "He...He's right there," She added brokenly, lazily skimming her eyes over to the door, where outside, the long haired man waited for her.

"Hmm? You alright in there?" He then asked her, growing concerned over the muffled response.

"Yes! " she answered back in a quick panic, her voice high pitched and wavering even as she tried to keep her preoccupation a secret.

'I have to stop…' (f/n) thought with a small shred of shame that creped up on her. 'But....' She then added quickly, 'But, Leone… Leone this is too much!' She went on, having made him the subject of many fantasies before, but never feeling as fulfilled by a fantasy than at that moment.

" I can finish, " she murmured selfish determination. "I ...I can..." she continued with the same greedy excitement.

Panting, she then rolled over, her ass high in the air as she continued to please herself, a little, excited wiggle to her hips that swayed her exposed ass to the observing man.

“Yes...Yes...Yes...” she repeatedly chanted into the cushioning bellow.

 “Fuck!” She cursed while her mouth pressed over the pillow, soon releasing a loud cry that was subdued by the support as her body raked by a powerful surge of electricity that visually shook her.

He cursed lowlily, unable to take more before he jerked his hips towards his jerking hand. It wasn’t long before the sweet remaining musk of her essence was masked by his thick spurts.

"I'm sorry Leone…" (f/n) said softly, " I just couldn’t help myself," She admitted, while slowly, her lower body slowly melted onto the mattress. " -And you'd just kill me if you knew," she giggled, the kittenish, little deviousness that shown during then making him smirk.

"...Or maybe fuck me into the mattress," She added while she stretched and mewled, and by then she  pressed her thighs together tightly.

‘Oh?’ he mused.

"Ah, I wouldn't mind," she murmured, " I wouldn't mind if you did," she admitted while, slowly, her actions caught up to her, and it was then that the full weight of her shame finally struck her.

" Come on (f/n)! Hurry up we don't have all day!" Another younger, much livelier voice interrupted.

Narancia huffed, "Fugo's been waiting in the car for a few minutes already and he's starting to get snappy, so quit jerking it and get your ass out there now!" He demanded, causing (f/n) to grow learned before she truly snapped into reality.

"SHUT UP!"  She screeched, immediately jumping up on her feet. 

She then scrambled off of the bed, quickly reaching for her clothes before frantically putting them back on.

" Don't say that!" She added with dismay, ready to jolt out of the door when Abbacchio stopped his replay.

The shallow breaths he took morphed into airy chuckles, as he took a seat on the mattress, his back soon falling onto the sweet-scented covers that retained the woman's signature aroma just after his stand disappeared.

#leone abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio fanart #leone abbacchio smut #leone abbacchio imagine #leone abbacchio x reader insert #leone abbacchio x fem reader #leone abbacchio x y/n #leone abbacchio x you #leone x reader #leone x reader insert #jjba fanfic #JJBA #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #jojo bizarre adventure #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #golden wind fanfic #golden wind x reader #jjba golden wind #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Golden Wind #Golden Wind #golden wind x reader insert #Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Battle Tendency #vento aureo x reader #JJBA Vento Aureo #Vento Aureo #vento aureo x reader insert

[skzfelixity]

Love Me Or Leave Me Part 2 | Chishiya Shuntaro [Alice In Borderland]

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: Still at the beach, you decide to return the cards by yourself while not believing Chishiya’s feelings. However, an incident with Niragi changes your mind.

Warnings: just a punch, niragi being niragi

part one

tags: @shyloh-the-cornsnake​

You woke up in a room, which apparently wasn’t yours. Your ceiling wasn’t as clean as this one for sure. The last thing you remembered was Chishiya’s confession in the rooftop, he must have left the beach by now. Wrong-

“You’re awake,” Chishiya entered the room, sitting at the table near the bed. You assumed this must be his room, realising that you had never been in here. He just stared at you as you observed the room, expecting questions to come out from your mouth.

“Why are we still here?” That was the first thing you wanted to know. He told you he would take you with him but you were still at the beach, his plan couldn’t have failed.

“Right after I tased you, Kuina informed me that every exit was guarded by militants so we had to abandon our plan,” he leaned back on the chair, his hood up his head and hands in his pockets. That meant that they lost the chance to leave because he was looking for you but he didn’t seem mad about it. You felt bad. You would feel less guilty if it was only him who stayed behind but it was Kuina as well. His great desire to leave the beach was thrown away because he wanted you with him. That also should mean that he has feelings for you- no, that can’t be it.

“You should have left before looking for me.” You rested your back on the bed frame. No matter how much you wanted to hate him, you couldn’t. If he left, he would probably be safer. He stood up and walked over to you, sitting on your side of the bed. “There was no point in leaving without you and there is no point in living without you.”

You were surprised at what he said, for sure he had his way with words. You chuckled, not believing him. You wanted to believe him but what he did a few hours ago didn’t let you. He knew you wouldn’t believe anything he said, that wouldn’t stop him from trying though. “What about the cards? Did you return them?”

He pulled the cards out of his pocket, answering your question. You gasped at the sight. If they find out that the cards are missing, hell knows what will happen. They might kill everyone here. “We have to return them!”

Chishiya smirked at the mention of ‘we’, placing the cards back in his pocket. “It’s too dangerous to go back there.”

“We have to-”

“They’ll never suspect us. I was the one who told Hatter someone got in there!” He tried to calm you down by bringing up a realistic assumption. He wasn’t going to risk yours or his life by returning those cards, he’d prefer to burn them instead.

“That doesn’t matter! We have to return them or else innocent people will get hurt!” The last thing you wanted was people to die because of what you three did. You couldn’t just vanish their hope to go back to the real world because of a stupid plan. Sure, most of them would die anyway but you didn’t want it to be this way.

“You don’t know that-” Chishiya isn’t dumb, he knows people will definitely die. 

“I am sure of it, Chishiya. Unlike you, I don’t want people to die because of me,” you brought up what happened a few hours ago. You had to be the considerate one among you two, it wasn’t right to let people die for your sake.

“What matters now is you and I being safe, we can’t do something so risky!” He ignored what you said about him, he didn’t have time to care for others. He wouldn’t sacrifice himself for someone he didn’t find worthy, who would do that? Judging by your personality and what you previously said, he knew you would. Your selflessness angered him, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. You’re the only one he would look out for, apart from himself.

“So now you care about me being safe? You know what? I am going to return them myself!” You stood up from the bed, determined to prevent a mass murder from happening.

“I am not letting you!” He reached out for your hand. He knew someone would see you, you didn’t know about who was wandering in the hallways. It was after midnight, the time when most people went to their rooms.

“I survived your plan, this will be nothing compared to that,” you yanked your hand out of his grip. You hated what he was doing. He was trying to look out for you when he literally had you in danger a few hours ago. You couldn’t understand him, even thinking about what was going on inside his head made you dizzy.

“Don’t make me tie you to the bed,” he stood up from the bed but you pushed him down. His back on the matress with you on top of him. One of his hands brought you closer to him, you didn’t resist and leaned into his ear. “Kinky but I’ll pass,” you quickly snatched the cards from his pocket and stood back up.

You walked to the door, him following you immediately. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back so you can use me for another plan of yours in the future.”

He watched you reach for the doorknob, trying to think of a way to stop you. His heart started beating faster at what you said, he really had messed up.

“I am sorry.”

Your hand fell from the doorknob to your side, these were three words that you never expected to hear from him.

“I am sorry that I used you before realising what you meant to me. I was stupid. I can’t lose you this time so please don’t go.” His eyes still held the dullness you were so used to, making it harder for you to believe him. You didn’t want to be fooled again, it would be embarrassing. You reminded yourself that the only person you could trust was yourself. Pushing your feelings for the male aside, you laughed loudly. The exaggerated reaction helped you ignore the pang in your chest. “Nice one! Who taught you to be so good with words? Did you take classes by some 1980′s gentleman?”

Although pissed that you just laughed at what he was feeling, the only thing he could do was sigh. Normally, he would curse and be mad at you but the guilt of his actions didn’t allow him to. “You’re probably hurt right now but-”

“Probably? Probably, Chishiya? You knew I loved you and you used that to satisfy your desires!” You were tired of dealing with him. You didn’t want to deal with him and his manipulative tricks anymore, it was getting exhausting. “If I don’t get caught while returning those cards, I don’t want to see you ever again.”

Before he could say anything, you left. His heart wanted to run after you but his brain told him not to so he didn’t. He sat down on his bed with a sigh. You survived earlier so you would survive now too. He didn’t need to worry, right? Lies, people here are dangerous.

“What are you sighing for?” Kuina entered his room, curious about why he seemed troubled. “Y/N is on her way to return the cards right now,” Chishiya informed her but it was like he reminded that to himself.

“Yeah, I know. I told her where the actual safe is and confirmed the password,” Kuina shrugged and her eyes fell to the bed. It was untidy and Chishiya doesn’t sleep at this hour so it was safe to say he had you lying here a few minutes ago.

“And you just let her go?” Again, it was like he was talking to himself.

“I assumed you already tried to stop her. If the person she loves didn’t manage to stop her, how could I?” She smirked, knowing well that he was disappointed at himself that he failed to stop you. 

“She doesn’t love me anymore,” he sighed as he fixed his bed. It hurt to say that, you no longer smiled at him. You gave him the sharpest and coldest words, he never thought something like that would bother him that much.

“She does. You’re the one who doesn’t love her here.” She spoke the obvious, anyone who observed you two would think that Chishiya didn’t care about you at all. But it really wasn’t about how others viewed your relationship.

“I do.. love her.”

“Then act like it if you do!” She yelled frustrated. She really wanted Chishiya to be with someone that could change him for the better and that was you. The vibes he was giving off weren’t the usual boring and dull ones. She could have ran away from the beach but she chose to stay behind for you two to be happy together.

Before Chishiya ran to the rooftop, he offered her the cards to run away on her own in case he didn’t find you in time. She didn’t expect it from him, Chishiya giving up on his long planned desire to leave? Sure there were possibilites of finding you in time but they both knew they were low. Even if he did, he’d have to spend some time on persuading you. Although it would be smart to get the cards, she refused.

She was a little touched to see him in love, that’s definitely what he was. He was in love with you, he wouldn’t abandon his plan for someone who wasn’t important to him. “Whatever, I’ll be in her room.”

“I guess he found the one.” Kuina smirked, satisfied to have figured out that you were the one that was slowly breaking down Chishiya’s walls. Maybe one day, you wll be able to leave the beach all three of you together.

[...]

You stood outside Hatter’s, praying that he wasn’t in there. You took the risk and opened the door, not seeing anyone around. You rushed to the deer painting, taking down. You entered the code, flashbacks of your first try hitting you. You would have tried to open the wrong safe if you didn’t back out. It’s really crazy how one decision can change your whole life.

You left the room, your mission accomplished. You didn’t know but you really just saved the whole population of the beach. Actually scratch that, you knew.

“Oh, Y/N!” A very drunk Niragi bumped into you. You were a few meters away from Hatter’s room and you had no reason to be there, that would be suspicious. You gave him an awkward smile, trying to cover yourself up as his eyes roamed your body.

He walked closer to you and snaked an arm around your waist, “Since we’re alone, why don’t we have some fun?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as his breath hit your ear. There was no point in answering, he will have it his way anyway.

“Niragi!” Aguni pulled the boy away from you by his shirt, “Quit messing around, you’re on patrol!”

You finally could breathe properly thanks to Aguni, reminding yourself to thank him in away he wouldn’t understand. “What are you doing here?” He glared at you as Niragi got out of his grip, rolling his eyes at his boss.

“I got dragged here by that idiot,” you pointed at Niragi, who was trying his best to walk properly. Aguni nodded at you and followed the beach’s most dangerous man.

You sighed in relief and went to your room. You didn’t want to think what would have happened to you if he found out why you were really there. The only thing you wanted to do was go to dream land. You didn’t even bother to turn on the lights, you went staight to your bed.

“You’re late,” Chishiya turned on the lamp you had next to your bed, revealing himself. He had been pacing around the room, waiting for you to come back. Too worried that you wouldn’t return.

“I met Niragi on my way back,” you shivered, remembering his breath on your ear. Disgusting. Chishiya noticed and knew Niragi tried something, I mean Niragi is Niragi. “What did he do?”

“Nothing that could kill me.” You shot another remark, reffering to his plan.

“Yet.” He rolled his eyes, reminding you that Niragi is dangerous as well. He was actually more dangerous than everyone in the beach.

“Can you leave? I told you I don’t want to see you again.”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” he smirked at you, hands in his pockets. His usual posture.

“You let me open the wrong safe? You must really love me huh?” You changed the subject, your heart falling to your stomach. He really sacrificed you like that.

“Y/N-”

“Please go, I am tired of you.” You didn’t have the energy to deal with him. Talking to him was like trying to solve a riddle. Did he mean what he said? What was the hidden message behind his sentences? It drove you crazy how complicated he was. You wanted him to be simply honest with you.

“No, you are not. You still love me!” He expected you to come back into his arms after all this ‘persuading’ but you didn’t. Too mad that he was wrong, you finally saw a different expression on his face. You seemed to not love him anymore and he didn’t want to accept that.

“I don’t love y-”

He kissed you, he did what his heart wanted him to. He missed you, he never knew he needed you. It took one dangerous plan to make him realise that you were special to him, he wished he had been better at figuring out feelings. For once, he felt stupid. You pushed him away harshly, his eyes widening at your action. “You should really leave.”

He nodded, what did he expect? To be kissed back and make up? Obviously not, you were about to tell him that you didn’t love him anymore. He didn’t want to hear it so he kissed you. He walked out of the room, ready to accept the fact that he couldn’t have you anymore but then he heard your sobs.

You wanted to kiss him back but it was wrong to do so. He always has to confuse you and make you wonder if he really loves you. He always did that. You were genuinely tired of him but you needed him. You dropped down on the floor, the sobs making your whole body vibrate.

Why fall in love in a deadly world like this? Love here is unnecessary, it will break you and distract you even more. However, there was no point in fighting for visa days if you didn’t get to see him afterwards. All the moments that made you keep on fighting meant nothing to him. Deeply hurt by that, you pushed him away even though you have a clue of what he actually feels for you. 

You believed what he said to you but you don’t want to risk it again. You acted like you didn’t for the sake of your pride and well being. The second one didn’t seem to work out though.

The only time you could feel at peace was when you were asleep. Surprisingly, you didn’t dream of him so you climbed up your bed in order to escape this mess.

Your sobs made Chishiya’s heart break. He never cared to consider someone else’s feelings but he cared about how you felt. Not only about how you felt for him but also how you felt in general.

You wouldn’t cry if you didn’t love him, right? As you can see, feelings are complicated to Chishiya too. He didn’t know how to handle them or tell them apart.

He had a hard time understanding you too, you weren’t the only one who was struggling. After you stopped crying, he decided to enter the room. You had fallen asleep on your bed and your eyes were swollen. He sighed as he covered you with a blanket.

He wasn’t going to give up on you. He will keep chasing you until you realise he is being sincere. Because to you, he wanted to be the most thoughtful, caring and loving person. You deserved more than a manipulator using you and he wasn’t going to be that to you anymore.

He’ll just have to try harder.

“Did you say goodbye?” Kuina asked him, leaning on the wall as he closed the door of your room.

“Actually, I decided to fight a little longer.” He had his usual smirk on but his eyes were different. They held hope, they were almost... bright. Kuina was more than excited to see Chishiya running after you, that’s not an everyday sight.

[...]

You woke up with the sunlight hitting your face. You didn’t remember leaving the curtains open though. “Does it bother you?” Chishiya stood in front of the window, blocking the sunlight from your view.

“It doesn’t bother me more than your face.” You turned around, your back facing him. Seeing him first thing in the morning wasn’t what you needed now, you needed to get away from him. Deep down, you were happy he didn’t give up on you and still came to see you.

You knew Chishiya, he would never go out of his way for someone. But here he was, in your room.

“Let’s go eat breakfast,” he rubbed your back, “As far as I am aware you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“You aren’t going to give up anytime soon, are you?” You asked, turning to face him. Trying to not seem affected by the physical contact.

“Nope,” he smirked at you. He stayed up all night and came early into your room, he wasn’t going to give up now.

“Fine. I hope food makes my day because your face just ruined it,” you got up, finally noticing the emptiness in your stomach.

“Keep telling yourself that, princess.” He chuckled at you, he lowkey liked your mean remarks but he preferred you being yourself with him. You weren’t cold and distant, this wasn’t you. It was just the act you put on when he was around.

“P-princess?” You exited your room, trying not to face him. He hadn’t used any pet names before, this was new. He really was trying hard.

Before Chishiya could tease you any farther, Niragi walked up to you. “I have something to discuss with the lady.”

“She’s with me now, come find her later.” Chishiya glared at him. No idiot would stop him from spending time with you, especially him.

“Look shorty, I don’t have time to waste with you.” He pointed his riffle at Chishiya and then rested it on his left shoulder.

“Then don’t and leave,” he held your hand and intertwined your fingers.

“Chishiya, you should go eat,” you grabbed the end of his sleeve with your other hand, squishing it. “I’ll talk with Niragi.” Although afraid of what Niragi would do, you wanted Chishiya to not get involved.

“But-”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll probably see her later.” Niragi dragged you away by your forearm. He made sure no one was around and pinned you on the wall. “So Y/N, tell me what were you doing near Hatter’s room yesterday?” He slammed his hand next to your head and placed on leg in between yours.

“Don’t you remember? You dragged me there.” You lied to him, not looking him in the eyes. You were so scared of him, he was unpredictable. He could rape you, kill you, hit you or let you go. “Oh honey I wasn’t that drunk, I remember finding you there.” He whispered in your ear. “So tell me before I kill you,” he pointed his riffle at your head.

“You plan on killing me anyway.”

“Actually that’s far from it,” He licked your neck, his cold piercing making contact with your skin made you sick to your stomach. He was about to kiss your lips but you pushed him away, making him stumble a few steps back.

“You fucking bitch!” He lifted his hand, forming it into a fist. You were ready to get hit so you closed your eyes. However, nothing happened. You opened your eyes to see Chishiya on the ground, blood running down his nose. “Chishiya!” you bended down next to him, examining his nose. He for sure got punched hard. He pinched his nose in order to make the blood stop.

“She was with me when you dragged her away yesterday,” Kuina appeared with her arms crossed. Chishiya brought her with him to help. He knew Niragi wanted to talk about what happened yesterday, he wasn’t going to leave you on your own.

“If you ever come near her again, I’ll be sure to burn you alive.” Chishiya stood up, glaring at Niragi. The blood from his nose was still flowing, staining his grey shirt.

“Oh I am so scared!” He mocked him and waved his hands in a defensive manner. He turn on his heel to walk away, “I’m not done with Y/N!”

“This brazen punk!” He yelled out frustrated. He’ll kill him one day, he made this promise to himself.

“Chishiya you’re bleeding,” you pointed out the obvious. You just didn’t know what to say, everything happened so fast. It was like you were still waiting for that punch from Niragi.

“No shit, Sherlock.” He was about to use his sleeve to wipe it off but then he decided not to. He wasn’t going to ruin his favourite white jacket because of Niragi. He wiped it with his grey shirt, which was already soaked with blood.

Kuina was silently giggling at the mess Chishiya was. She’d never imagined him bleeding and definitely not because of Niragi. “It isn’t funny, Kuina.” He glared at her as his nose stopped bleeding. She nodded her head, waving goodbye at you and taking her leave. She had to go laugh her ass off in some other place.

“Come on. Let’s get you to my room,” you wrapped an arm around him and started walking. “You know I can walk Y/N,” he chuckled at your thoughtfulness. It had been so long since you touched him, he truly missed you.

“Yeah, right!” you removed your hands from him. Too embarrassed to look at him, you walked a few steps ahead.

“Just a reminder, I didn’t say you should take your arms off.” He caught up to you, swaying an arm over your shoulder. You faced him, taking a better look at his face. “Kuina wasn’t wrong for laughing, you’re a mess!”

The dried blood under his nose and lips made you laugh. Blood and Chishiya just go well together. (#doctorjokes)

Chishiya scoffed, he just saved you and you had the audacity to make fun of him. Nevertheless, he was glad to see you laugh because of him again.

You sat him down on your bed, running to the bathroom. There wasn’t a first aid kit or wet wipes. Great, what a paradise the beach was. You grabbed a toilet paper roll and a bottle of water and went back to him. Going to find Ann for supplies didn’t seem like the ideal solution right now.

“Take off your shirt,” you poured a few drops of water on a piece of toilet paper, it was the best alternative for wet wipes you could think of. Chishiya wiggled his eyebrows, taking off his jacket and then his shirt. “It’s soaked in blood idiot!”

“I witnessed a raspberry juice watefall,” you giggled, trying not to look at his shirtless body. It would be rude and embarrassing to do so. You started wiping the blood under his nose, holding him still by his chin.

“You’re welcome for the sight then.” He chuckled, noticing how hard you tried not to look away from his face. Your hands were slightly trembling as you wiped his lips, careful enough to not tear apart the toilet paper.

“Thank you,” you smiled apologetically at him, “I didn’t think you were the type to get punched for someone.”

You finished cleaning him up and placed the alternative wet wipes on the table nearby. It took him some time to reply. He didn’t know how to depict what he felt when he saw Niragi ready to punch you, he wasn’t good with words yet. “I am not. I stepped in because it was you who was about to get hurt. I’d rather be hurt than see you hurt.”

Suddenly the question that was eating you away a few days ago came up to your mind. You felt like asking him again, it seemed like the answer would be genuine this time. “Do you really love me now?”

“Y/N,” he cupped your cheeks to make sure you were looking him in the eyes. His eyes were sparkling and shining. You couldn’t find that dullness in them anymore, “I love you.”

“You know what?” You smiled at him, your heart fluttering. He wasn’t pretending, you knew it. Maybe you needed to make an effort to understand him better too.

“What?” He smiled back at you. Not a smirk, not a sarcastic smile but a sweet and bright one. It was the first he smiled like that to you, you wanted to make him smile more often. He was even prettier with a genuine smile on his face. “I love you too.”

“I am glad to hear that again,” he pulled you into his lap, resting his head on the crook of your neck. These three words never meant anything to him until you gave them meaning. He wanted to hear them coming out of your mouth directed to him and only him.

“Can we sleep together?” he mumbled, trying not to yawn. He hadn’t slept for more than thirty hours and the comfort of your hug made him want to sleep in your arms.

“Chishiya-”

“Sleep Y/N, sleep.” He pulled away from your neck, giving you a small smile. He’ll fulfill your thought another time, all he wanted now was to actually sleep.

“Oh- sure.”

He held you so close to him, legs tangled together. He was almost asleep when your stomach growled, reminding you two that you forgot about breakfast.

“I think you should go eat,” he let go of you only to have you cling tighter to him. “After we wake up.”

You were back at where you started. Not being able to leave his side, searching for him every minute of your life. But this time, he felt the same.

#alice in borderland #aib #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya aib #chishiya angst #chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #imawa no kuni no alice #imawa no kuni no arisu